


fix me or conflict me

by iv (ivan)



Series: drop our anchors in a storm [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game), DCU
Genre: F/M, Finally, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, my nanowrimo? done, the enemy within? NEVER HEARD OF HER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 04:09:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 67,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivan/pseuds/iv
Summary: charlie schiller-aberdeen is building her new life in gotham; she made some friends, she's in love - and sure, her lover is a wanted criminal, but at least he's honest.except gotham is still gotham; and soon the city of second chances catches up to her, ensnaring her in its dark secrets. because all debts must be paid, one way or another.[an immediate follow-up to catch me like a cold]





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> louise mcdonagh by my lovely gf, skyler hill by my lovely friend alan!!  
> and also: my gf made a fucking SOUNDTRACK. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLrX8JDxzrT2ZVTWIDmZfW8OjPcaL9bSCs

All was good in Gotham City, even though plenty of things were out of place - such as Oswald Cobblepot, a notorious, wanted criminal. Not so long ago, Oswald nearly brought Batman down, nearly took everything from Bruce Wayne; but he let his pride and his greed blind him. One thing lead to another, the mistakes began to pile up - and before he knew it, it was game over for Oswald. He accepted his fate, having full faith in Lady Arkham’s plan; but someone was watching over him. Someone intercepted him, and made him disappear from the public eye, someone hid him away from the world; and in his hideout Oswald regained his relative peace of mind and strength.

Plenty of things were out of place - for example, instead of being in a prison, Oswald was in Crest Hill, a luxurious, suburban neighbourhood, located in a close proximity to the famous Wayne Manor. He wasn’t busy with anything shady or illegal; but what he was doing was of great importance.

“Hurry up…” a young woman moaned out, bucking her hips impatiently. Her name was Charlie, Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen - and she and Oswald Cobblepot had just became an item. It wasn’t a grand, torrid love story; if anything it was quiet and comforting, as odd as it sounds used as a description for falling in love with a wanted criminal. Charlie was trying to build a new life for herself in Gotham, and Oswald’s quiet protector - Salvatore Maroni, a well-known businessman and a mystery no one had ever been able to truly crack - offered her a spot in his inner circle, for exchange asking only for loyalty and access to her bottomless bank account. She accepted the offer; and before she knew it - something blossomed between her and Maroni’s bloodthirsty protege, something beautiful and familiar. And now they were in the master bedroom of her secluded house, not a care in the world, his lips on her neck and his hand between her thighs.

She knew she’s playing with fire, but she didn’t mind - at least Oswald wasn’t pretending to be someone he’s not. He was open and proud, and she loved looking at his face and hands, thinking about his glory days, when he and Lady Arkham nearly took over the city. He was a bad man, and she was well aware - but she didn’t care. She was self-centered like that; and to her, Oswald had been nothing but chivalrous, making her heart beat rapidly with his sweet words and promising gazes. Being terrible, having blood on his hands and resentful hunger in his eyes - it was all a part of his charm. She was no angel either; and Oswald _understood_ , he understood how it feels to fall apart, to lose everything, to have to piece yourself back together and hope for the result to at least be similar to how you were before everything went to hell. They understood each other, they knew about each other’s ugly parts - but that wasn’t important, not when it was just the two of them and they could pretend the outside world doesn’t exist.

“Why, do you want me gone?” he whispered, his fingers distracting her with gentle teasing. “You’re breaking my heart, love.”

“You know what I mean!” she muttered as he dragged his teeth across the sensitive skin of her neck; and he snickered in response.

“No, actually, I don’t.” he said. “What do you want me to do, Charlie? You have to guide me, love. I can’t read minds.”

She scoffed quietly; Oswald was a criminal mastermind and an arms dealer, who successfully performed one of the greatest cons in Gotham’s history. He wasn’t a telepath - but his mind was absolutely brilliant. He could read people like open books - and he read her many times. They played this game before; he claimed he enjoys hearing her explicitly talk about what she wants him to do to her, with her, for her. It was a pleasant game; one of many things that drew her to him.

“So tell me. What do you want me to do?”

He looked her in the eye, the corners of his lips curled in an obnoxious smirk she absolutely, wholeheartedly adored, and she thought back to what was supposed to be their only night together; a single adventure, a night to forget - but that’s not what fate intended.

It was a pleasant afternoon - one of many. For a few hours, they could pretend everything is normal; for a few hours they could pretend he doesn’t have to hide. But the reality of their situation couldn’t be ignored forever - he had to get back to his cage eventually. He was hiding in plain sight, in the living quarters above Peperoncino, a bar slash restaurant Maroni bought from Carmine Falcone shortly before Penguin and Lady Arkham began to realize their plans of revolution and vengeance. Maroni had a stellar public record, and cut any and all ties with Falcone as soon as the true nature of his empire was revealed; nobody suspected who’s hiding above the restaurant, nobody as much as glanced in the general direction of Peperoncino in search for Oswald Cobblepot. And Oswald was good at navigating the streets without being captured; GCPD and Batman were at war with Gotham’s newest masked menaces, meaning the search for Penguin and Lady Arkham - who hadn’t been seen or heard from since their disappearances - temporarily lost its high priority status. Lady Arkham was presumed dead, and Penguin lost the majority of his contacts and resources; he was not considered a major threat to anyone, not anymore.

And he wasn’t too pleased about it.

“I’ve spent _years_ working for my reputation.” he said begrudgingly. “And now people act like I’m just a no-good crook. I took down Falcone! I took down Hill! I took Bruce’s bloody corporation from him! And now I’m not even prioritized by the _cops_.”

“Yes, such a tragedy.” she muttered in response. “It must be so awful for you, being able to navigate the city and get out of Peperoncino every now and then. Woe is you.”

He snickered in response, but didn’t say anything and she rolled onto her side to look at him.

During those few months between his downfall and her return to Gotham, Oswald had been laying low; according to both Maroni and Jacques - the bartender at Peperoncino, Maroni’s cousin and Oswald’s unwilling host - he hadn’t been up to anything, too busy regaining his pride.

“You’re staring.” he said eventually. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“You’re penniless.” she said.

“Oswald is penniless.” he said, turning his head to look at her. “Penguin, on the other hand… Still has some hidden aces up his sleeve, some assets, some zeros… So, darling. Penny for your thoughts?”

She sighed, sitting up; there was a lot on her mind, and she wasn’t quite sure how to put it all into words.

“I’ve been wondering…” she eventually said, looking at him attentively. “I’ve been wondering why are you still in Gotham.” she breathed out. “You might not be a priority anymore, but you’re still a wanted man.”

“Oh, it’s very simple, really.” he replied, stretching and putting his hands behind his head. “I’m waiting for a good moment to strike again - and what better way of finding this right moment than sticking around?”

“But Jacques and Salvatore-”

“Jacques and Salvatore hadn’t been watching my every step.” he interrupted her. “Smoke and mirrors are my specialty. Deception’s my weapon of choice. Relax, Charlie. I’m not going to plunge Gotham into another revolution. This time… It will be swift and merciless, with no burden of ideology.”

“You do have an ideology though.” she pointed out, getting up from the bed. “And it’s being vehemently against Bruce Wayne.”

He laughed quietly, following her with his eyes; they talked about Bruce Wayne quite often, as she was - theoretically - a public person, often seen in close proximity to the beloved millionaire. She was the newest addition to Gotham’s social elite, all thanks to being filthy rich and being seen in company of Salvatore Maroni; she crossed paths with Bruce Wayne quite often - and they were on rather good terms, despite her initial dislike of him. He was intelligent and polite and seemed to be deeply affected by the ugly fallout between him and Oswald. But he wasn’t exactly her _friend_ ; she wouldn’t cry if he disappeared from her life. And Oswald’s thirst for his blood and fortune didn’t disappear after his initial failure; if anything, it grew stronger.

Charlie left the bedroom and went downstairs and Oswald followed, his sharp presence feeling very natural, like he was meant to be there, in her home.

Her home.

She only lived in Gotham for a short time - but it already felt more like home than New York ever did, even though she was followed by her tragedy, even though she had to build a new life from the grounds up - the city simply felt _right_. Maybe it was something in its architecture, maybe it was something in the air; or maybe it was Oswald, plain and simple. He wasn’t a good person - but he made her feel loved, he made her feel like she belongs.

“So, what’s your plan?” she asked as they were in the kitchen; Oswald was sitting on the table, watching her as she was cleaning up. She could feel his eyes on her; and she liked that feeling. She was wearing his shirt; she stole it from him some time ago, when she was dealing with the fact she’s developing actual romantic feelings for him. “Bruce Wayne seems to like me.” she added.

“Are you offering to be my spy in his life?” he asked and she sighed.

Last time Oswald was on the warpath with Bruce things didn’t go great for him; somehow Batman got involved and before he knew it, Oswald was ears deep in shit, all thanks to his cockiness and being blinded by anger.

“Maybe.” she said cautiously, deciding to maybe not rush things - after all, they only admitted to their feelings _very_ recently, and the relationship was still a new land for both of them, even though they couldn’t deny they seem to be compatible. “Do you want my help?”

“I’m tempted.” he admitted. “And torn. Common sense tells me to accept it, but basic decency tells me to refuse and keep you away from my Penguin business.”

“Your what and what now?” she asked jokingly. “You don’t have common sense, and you sure as hell aren’t decent.”

“Ah, you’re playing with fire. Watch out, you might get burned.”

“Oh, I’m _so_ scared.” she said mockingly. “But regardless… My offer still stands. I can help you, Oswald. I _want_ to help you.” she added, suddenly realizing she means it. “Come on. Let me be a bad girl I was always meant to be.”

“And Kore called out to Hades - _come and get me, underworld king, take me to the underworld and give me my crown_.” Oswald recited and Charlie laughed.

“That’s not how it goes in my case though.” she eventually said. “Is that really how you see us?”

“Oh, _us_?” he asked playfully. “So we’re an _us_ now?”

“...yes?” she said hesitantly, suddenly realizing they didn’t actually mention an actual relationship, instead blurting out their confessions and going straight to undressing and kissing.

“I was just joking.” he said softly. “Let me be an ass, almost all of my personality is grounded in me being an insufferable prick. Of course we’re an _us_ , I’ve been pining for you for… A while now. We’re an _us_ now. You’re having a secret affair with a man who nearly won a fight with Batman. You can be proud.”

“I’m _very_ proud.” she said, feeling relief washing over her; Oswald was important to her, very important. His arms felt like home, his presence in Gotham was a lot like a much needed anchor. “I bewitched a crime lord. That’s no small feat.”

“Precisely.” he agreed. “Now, as for your original proposal… He's a spineless coward, love. I'm not after him anymore, no, I don't care about him. What I want... Is what he has."

"And I can help you get it. I have a way with people."

“Mmm.” he muttered; he walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin atop of her head. She smiled, feeling his warmth; it felt so natural, so _right_. She loved again, and she felt loved back; she missed that feeling, even if the object of her affections was actually a dangerous criminal with an impressive track record. "Do you actually like Bruce?" he finally asked.

"I'm not sure yet. He seems... Nice. Almost too nice."

"Like he's hiding something, right?" he muttered. "Some big, dark secret he doesn't want people to know about... But I know his secret now."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, putting the dishes in the dishwasher; he didn't let her go, instead just mimicking her movements. "What's his secret?"

"He's working with the Batman."

"...you're joking. Please tell me you're joking."

_Bruce Wayne_ and the _Batman?_ Now that was a shocker. She'd never expect this painfully polite, obnoxiously social bore to have anything to do with Gotham's famed vigilante.

"Mmm-mmm." he muttered, tightening his embrace slightly. "I saw everything, good ol' Brucie-boy is working for the Bat."

"You could've told me _before_ I offered you help, you know."

"Ah, but don't you worry about a thing. If anything happens, I'm going to swoop in like a hawk and save you. Deal?"

"Penguins are flightless birds." she muttered as his hands slowly started moving up and he snickered in response.

"And very heavy too. I'm going to fucking _crush_ Bruce Wayne if Batman as much as lays a single finger on you."

His hands found her cloth-covered breasts and she closed her eyes and tilted her head, as his lips found her neck.

(Who knew plotting some lies and a possible heist could double as a foreplay? She didn't - but it worked. And it seemed like she's not the only one getting in the mood.)

They ended up in one of the chairs in her living room - her sitting on his lap, with her back against his chest and her head on his shoulder and her fingers in his hair, her eyes half closed, as he leaned in to steal a kiss from her.

And she got lost in his touch again; he had a way with her body, he knew exactly how to play it to make her sing the loveliest songs. It was a bliss; every time his touch felt just as electric as it did the first time they met and she knew nothing of his grand plans and dreams of fortune. She was in love, and felt loved back; and it didn’t matter that she’ll have to hide it, that she’ll have to pretend. All that mattered to her was his touch and his breath.

“Sing for me.” he whispered into her ear and she did, she did, she did.

***  
The next few weeks were like a perfect sine wave. Jacques decided it’s time to kick Oswald out of Peperoncino; Maroni was out of town, and Jacques was desperate to get his living quarters back for himself and his partner. As amusing as it was, it would also leave Oswald without an actual safe haven in Gotham; he couldn’t risk going back to the warehouse in the docks, not when there was an actual war going on between Batman, the police, the Joker and the Scarecrow. The actions of Lady Arkham and Penguin seemed to be a spark, that ignited the fire of Gotham’s criminal underworld; and the two criminals were very persistent and elusive. Scarecrow seemed to be mostly interested in radically unethical psychological experiments on people drugged with his fear toxin; while Joker seemed to be an embodiment of _chaotic evil_ alignment. And to makes things worse - local gangsters finally realized what death of Carmine Falcone and end of his empire can mean for them. Everyone wanted to be the king; Gotham became a very dangerous city.

“It’s no big deal.” Oswald insisted. “The Waterfront’s not a mafia joint anymore, I can crash on Mooney’s couch. And I have plenty of friends in the Slavic Quarter. They see me as a hero! They’ll take me in.”

“Yes, and one thing will lead to another, and you’ll start another revolution.” Charlie sighed, shaking her head. Oswald scoffed.

“Hey, the revolution was Vicki’s idea.” he claimed. “Though I was very much on board with it. And it didn’t go all that bad! People of Gotham are now way more wary of those in power. That’s good.”

“Stay with me.” she suggested. “Please.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” he said with a playful grin. “Well, you don’t need to ask _me_ twice. I’m a sucker for luxury… _And_ good company.” he added with a wink, as Jacques groaned in the background.

“And… That’s it? That’s all for convincing you to be reasonable?”

“Good doctor Crane spent quite a lot of time talking me out of my self destructive urges.” Oswald replied with a careless shrug. “If I want to succeed - I have to be careful. Cunning. Plan ahead, take things into consideration… And your house is actually perfect. It’s secluded, it’s near to the river… A perfect base for someone who knows his way around Gotham, and Charlie, love, my heart’s in sync with the pulse of this gordian knot of a city.”

“You have a phone with Google Maps.”

“And I’m _very_ efficient at using it.”

She laughed; and it was decided - Oswald Cobblepot was officially kicked out of Peperoncino and was to move in with her, into her secluded Crest Hill residence, located off the beaten track.

“There’s one more reason why I’m actually happy about this.” he told her as Jacques left the room to call his boyfriend, who had a delivery van - perfect for transporting Oswald’s belongings without raising any suspicions.

“Do tell.”

“As you might have noticed… I have a problem with relationships.” he said, very seriously. “It’s an elephant in the room of sorts, no one wants to say it out loud… But what happened to my family, and the loneliness that followed - it… Did something to me. I have trust issues, trouble with boundaries…”

His voice was breaking a bit, even though he sounded a bit like he was reciting a speech he prepared beforehand.

“I’m a deeply, truly messed up lad.” he eventually said. “I don’t trust easily, but when I do - I do so blindly, and to no end. And I trust _you_. And you make me feel… Like maybe not everything’s lost for me.”

“I’m here for you.” she said softly, walking up to him and touching his face with her fingertips. “And I’m glad I picked Gotham of all places. And I can’t wait to see what does it have in store for us. I love you.”

“Even though I’m a monster.” he breathed out, closing his eyes. “Even though I’m fueled by resentment, even though you only know one side of me…”

“I know the better side of you.” she whispered. “They don’t know the same Oswald I do.”

“Maybe they know the _real_ me.”

“Maybe they do.” she agreed. “But I’m willing to bet I’m going to love that version of you as well.”

She kissed him, just as Jacques returned to the room, groaning with disgust.

“Absolutely reprehensible.” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, Eddie will help. Now all we need are some boxes… And my apartment will belong to _me_ again.”

“But what will your uncle say?” Charlie asked, genuinely curious; from what she saw, Salvatore Maroni - albeit antisocial and secretive - seemed to be _very_ determined to keep Oswald safe and off the streets. Not only he bought the entirety of less shady part of Falcone’s empire, he also got his hands on Falcone’s list of _emergency contacts_ \- a long list that never made it to the police, one that included policemen, journalists, doctors. Maroni was sinking tons of money into ensuring Oswald’s presence in Gotham will remain a secret only known to chosen few; and now his own nephew was sending him away. “Won’t he be angry?”

“That depends entirely on you.” Jacques replied nonchalantly. “His safety and well-being is on you now. Me? I’m going to deny everything and say it was his idea all along.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m his babysitter.”

“That’s because you are.” he said with a shrug. “He might be a brilliant criminal mastermind… But he’s also petty, childish and infuriatingly stubborn.”

“Yes, because until she came around, getting on your nerves was one of very few joys in my life.” Oswald chimed in. “I live for attention, Jacques, be it positive or negative. And you gave me _plenty_ of it.”

“Good lord.” Jacques muttered, shooting Charlie a tormented look. “That’s what you’re getting yourself into. You still have time to reconsider, you know. I can’t say I like you, but girl… You don’t deserve _this_.”

“Now’s the time you shock him by declaring you find my obnoxiousness charming.” Oswald said with a wink.

“Let her speak, Oswald.”

“He’s right though.” she said with a shrug. “I don’t mind some verbal swordplay every now and then, plus… I like the sound of his voice.”

“ _And_ you think I’m charming.”

“And I think he’s charming.”

“Love makes fools of us all.” Jacques muttered, shaking his head.

And it was settled - Oswald’s safe nest was moved from the Peperoncino to Crest Hill. Maybe for the better; getting in and out of Peperoncino was getting more and more difficult with each passing day, with cops patrolling the streets - Crest Hill, on the other hand, was mostly free of patrols. Only the rich lived there - and it was on the other side of the river, meaning Gotham wave of crime had virtually no way of getting there. A perfect cover.

The only potential issue was the fact Bruce Wayne lived nearby; but Oswald promised to be reasonable and decent. No throwing eggs at the Wayne Manor, no bricks, no stealing pebbles from the pond in the garden.

“Why would you even _consider_ stealing _pebbles_?!”

“Chances are, his father stole those pebbles from _my_ garden.” Oswald said with a shrug. “Also, I like pebbles. It’s… A penguin thing.”

And she simply nodded, because there was nothing else she could say.

And thus began that one part of her life she never at all expected - living with a wanted criminal. That was not at all what she had planned for herself as a college student - but it still wasn’t too bad. She had to mask a lot of things with overt optimism; but Oswald’s presence filled a small part of that gaping hole inside her heart. He had blood on his hands and promises of death on his tongue; but oh, the way he looked at her! The way he made her feel! It overshadowed everything else.

Even though being with him - _actually_ being with him, being a part of a relationship deeper than casual lovers - was a bit restricting. She didn’t mind not being able to invite over people from outside the inner circle - she didn’t need another batch of surface level, performative relationships anyway - but she definitely had to be careful when out and about. She was a decent actress, good at pretending to be both more innocent and tougher than in reality - but she sometimes had problems hiding her actual feelings. The tender spark in her eyes, the softness of her voice when she spoke of Oswald Cobblepot, the menace who nearly painted the city red - those were all dead giveaways. Nobody would accuse her of actually being his accomplice - but it’d certainly be suspicious if she expressed sympathy for him, all while being friendly with Bruce Wayne, the one person Oswald didn’t manage to actually destroy.

“A lot of people to some degree sympathize with Oswald.” Louise told her one afternoon, as they were talking about the invitation from Bruce Wayne Charlie had received. “They won’t admit it, and they condemn the majority of what he did, but… They can’t deny the fact he sort of had a point. It got lost in Lady Arkham’s ideology, and then his own narcissism took the better of him, but still - he had a _point_.”

“But I still should hide _my_ opinion.”

“Yeah. You don’t _sort of kind of partially agree_ , you’re on board with his every stupid idea… Plus when you talk about him you make that face normal people do when they talk about Idris Elba, or Lucy Liu. You know. Someone intelligent, attractive, charismatic…”

“You’re just listing everything I like about Oswald.”

“You and I seem to know two _very_ different Oswalds.” Louise snickered. “Anyway. If I were you, I’d show up. A banquet in honor of the new mayor is the _perfect_ occasion to score some good citizen brownie points. Come on, it’ll be… Well, not _fun_ , gatherings of the elite are anything _but_ fun, but there probably will be some good wine. And canapes.”

“Mm, alright.” Charlie muttered, glancing at a calendar; the date she was interested in seemed to be very far away - meaning if she began her plan now, she’d have plenty of room to fix any possible mistakes. “Alright, I’m in. I’ll be there. Who else is coming?”

“Anyone who matters, obviously. And probably people the new mayor squeezed some cash from.”

Gotham’s new mayor was a mystery - he came out of nowhere, and the majority of his campaign seemed to be eerily similar to Dent’s campaign; but people of Gotham didn’t seem to mind. After what happened to the previous two mayors, and the fact Penguin - a notorious breaker of mayors - was still at large it was a miracle anyone actually decided to give it a shot. He seemed honest and reasonable, and the extensive background check GCPD ran on him behind his back didn’t reveal any links to organized crime; he probably was Gotham’s best chance at fully recovering from Lady Arkham’s failed revolution. He won the election by landslide, as he ran unopposed; but he didn’t seem to mind.

“The world’s not a pretty place.” he stated in an interview. “I learned to appreciate easy victories, as they allow me to save my strength for more demanding battles.”

He sounded like a person that could be reasoned with - exactly the kind of person Charlie needed. But first - she had to get ready for the actual event, and Oswald wasn’t making anything easy for her.

“Where is my lipstick?!”

“Right _here._ ”

“Give it back!”

“How about a trade? Your lipstick for a kiss?”

“God, you’re clingy.” she muttered, breaking the kiss for a moment; Oswald rolled his eyes.

“Of course I’m clingy.” he stated, giving her the lipstick. “I was very lonely for the majority of my life.”

“You know what I love about you? The fact you always know how to put your feelings into words.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about everything bothering me, lot of sleepless nights.” he said with a shrug. “I got good at verbalizing stuff… Plus I often dealt with people who needed _everything_ spelled out. Also, keep going. Keep telling me what you love about me.”

“Everything.” she said, glancing at his reflection over the shoulder of her own. “God, that was sappy.”

“Well, if you ask me… You have every right to finally be sappy. You lost your parents, spent two years on the road, killed your husband… Being emotional’s not a bad thing.”

She shuddered and looked away, his words piercing like knives; and he noticed. Of course he did, he was good at reading her.

“Well, shit.” he said awkwardly. “I forgot your trauma’s not as old as mine, you didn’t have a lifetime to deal with it.”

“You did, and in the end - you almost burned Gotham down just to cope.” she blurted out bitterly, trying to hide her melancholy behind a mask of ice - but it didn’t work. Apparently the ice was transparent enough for Oswald to be able to see right through it.

“Hey.” he said softly. “I’m sorry, alright? I know I’m a prick, but I only hurt people who _deserve_ it. I don’t feel bad about all the shit I said to Bruce, but you’re not Bruce. You’re not someone I _want_ to hurt.”

“I’m still learning how to be casual about things.” she sighed. “Everything I feel, I feel… Hard. My emotions only switch between extremes.”

“Then we truly are a match made in heaven. But my point still stands - you had to be tough as nails for a long time. It’s good you finally have an occasion to be soft. I… Definitely like this new, sappy Charlie.” he added almost hesitantly. “I guess it’s a good thing, considering what you said about going to love the shitty me, the only difference being the fact I actually _like_ that shitty, bloody part of me. You, on the other hand… Seem to be embarrassed about being a huge sap.”

“You know what? I wonder what would your life look like if you became a therapist, rather than a criminal.”

“I feel like I’d become a criminal no matter what.” he admitted. “Charming therapist by day, cunning criminal by night… Wait, did I accidentally discover Crane’s dirty secret?” he asked suddenly.

It was a ridiculous idea, and she giggled, opening the drawer of her dressing table and reaching for her pearls.  
(It was a family memento; her father gifted this simple, elegant set of earrings and a necklace to her mother during their first anniversary. She always wanted to wear them one day. Her vision blurred slightly at the thought of her parents; her father's attentiveness and her mother's elegance.)  
"Is everything alright?" Oswald asked apprehensively and she sniffled and nodded.  
"I just remembered my parents, that's all. My dad gave those pearls to my mom, and I just... Miss them." she whispered and he sighed and walked up to her; he wrapped his arms around her from behind, embracing her tightly.  
"I know." he whispered back, his voice cracking slightly. "I miss mine too."  
"Let's not do it tonight though." she said eventually with a forced smile. "I have people to dazzle. Let's... Postpone our emotional breakdown."

“It’s a deal. Spit into Bruce’s drink from me.”

***

Since Charlie still hadn’t gotten around to buying a car - all she had was her bike, and she was tired of it - Louise was her ride. She seemed to be pale and oddly tense, and for a moment Charlie couldn't figure out why; but then she remembered Gotham's previous mayor.

"Hey, Lou." she asked carefully. "Are you... Alright?"

"This party shouldn't be happening." Louise said quietly, her eyes focused on the road. "I don't have anything against McNamara, he's... A decent guy. But Gotham... Gotham should still have a mayor named Dent. Harvey Dent."

"Were you two close?"

"Eh, we were getting there. I was closer with Oswald anyway. But still... Dent didn't deserve this. Penguin and Lady Arkham kind of... Crossed a line."

"And yet you're helping him."

"Yeah." Louise said, sighing. "Because tremendous asshole or not... He's still my friend."

The majority of Gotham social elite showed up; everyone worth knowing was there - commissioner Gordon, Jack Ryder, chief surgeon of the Gotham General Hospital - a cold eyed man named Thomas Elliot, whose face looked like an oddly attractive mash-up of Bruce and Oswald - and the second richest man in Gotham - a weary businessman, named Roman Sionis. The true crème de la crème of Gotham; and among them Charlie - whose only feats were being seen as Maroni’s plus one and being seen flirting with Bruce Wayne.

(She didn’t mind the lack of publicity; in fact - she appreciated it. The less people interested in her personal life the better - and not just for the sake of Oswald, but her own as well. She came to Gotham looking for a fresh start; she didn’t need people dragging out the skeletons out of her closet.)

It took Charlie about two hours and a polite, friendly conversation with Bruce Wayne to finally find the mayor - the person she was after that night.

"Where's the mayor, by the way?" she asked finally and Wayne scratched his head.

"I'm not sure." he finally admitted, offering her his arm. "Let's go look for him."

They found him on the balcony, where he was - _very_ attentively - listening to Jack Ryder and his rant on the Scarecrow.

(He looked so young, he couldn't be much older than her - but there already was something in his eyes, a weird mix of weariness and worry.)

"Mister mayor." Bruce Wayne said politely, tapping him on the shoulder. "Someone would like to speak to you."

"What a shocking turn of events." the mayor said with a faint smile. “I’m all ears. From the people, for the people, yadda yadda.”

He sounded just a tiny bit tipsy; probably a good thing, considering what she was about to ask.

"Can we talk in private?"

"Mister Wayne..?" the mayor asked hesitantly and Bruce nodded and lead them to a small room, far away from the crowds.

"Take your time." he said before disappearing and Charlie was left alone with Gotham's new mayor, who was looking at her from behind his glasses with a mix of curiosity and poorly hidden distrust.

"My name is Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen, mister mayor... And I need a favor."

"I'm of the people, for the people, miss Schiller-Aberdeen, but... What _kind_ of favor are we talking about?"

"How do you feel about the Cobblepot family, mister mayor?"

"A tragedy." he said shortly. "One of Gotham's biggest tragedies, if not _the_ biggest one. And Penguin's vendetta is... Understandable. Not justified - but absolutely understandable."

"I want to make an anonymous donation. A _big_ one - you dictate the amount. And I want it to be used to... Renovate the Cobblepot Park. And maybe build a homeless shelter there."

"...alright." the mayor muttered, after a long silence. "Off to controversial decisions I see."

"I also want it to be done by August twenty one." she added eventually and they mayor sighed, took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's Oswald Cobblepot's birthday." he said finally, not looking at her. "Are you in... Cahoots with Oswald Cobblepot, miss Schiller-Aberdeen?"

"No." she said quickly. "But I'm... Sympathetic."

"That's not something you should be sharing with a mayor, aka Penguin's enemy number one - but fine. I'll pretend I never heard it. Your donation is... Most welcome. I will reach out to you within the week to tell you how much exactly your favor's going to cost. Deal?"

"Deal, mister mayor." she said, looking him in the eye and shaking his hand. "I hope... You won't end up like your predecessors."

"...I have no idea how to reply to wishes that basically boil down to _I hope you won't either get killed or driven insane._ "

"A simple _thank you_ will suffice." she said with a smirk and the mayor rolled his eyes.

"Thank you." he said eventually. "Now let's get back before people start getting funny ideas. I'd much prefer _this_ to be my first scandal, rather than what you want me to do, but..."

"I'd rather avoid scandals." she said shortly, walking few steps in front of him. "But I appreciate the fact you agreed."

"I _really_ hope you're not working with him." the mayor muttered under his breath and she smiled and shook her head, thinking about Oswald's breath on her skin.

They got back just in time to hear Ryder's alcohol-fueled rant.

"Our new mayor won by a landslide... Probably because he was the only candidate. I'm not saying he wouldn't have won if he _had_ a competition - I'd still vote for him him - but come on. Come the fuck on. A whole city, FILLED WITH PEOPLE - and only _one_ person decided to run?!"

"Only one person suicidal enough!" a young woman giggled and Jack Ryder scoffed.

"Oh PUH-LEASE. This is Gotham! Half the population starts their day by thinking _gosh, I wish I was dead_ \- only ONE person decided to actually _do_ something?!"

"Are you implying... This is just a very elaborate suicide attempt?" Louise asked, raising her eyebrows and Ryder vigorously nodded his head.

"Gotham is a very elaborate excuse for a working, civilized society!" he announced and some people gasped and some others laughed. "There's a fine line between _having suicidal thoughts_ and _running for mayor in Gotham_ and this guy... He crossed it."

"Please." Wayne scoffed, raising a glass in mayor's direction. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Well I'm not! Good ol' Theo Cobblepot died in the middle of his campaign. Mayor Hill... Didn't do well at the debate. Dent... Did well, but in the end still go shipped off to Arkham."

"Are you done, Jack?" someone asked and Ryder shook his head.

"I'm a news anchor. I'm _never_ done."

Charlie glanced at the mayor, who seemed to be weirdly... Overjoyed by this tirade. Louise grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away.

"What were you doing with him?" she asked sharply, looking her in the eye.

"I was voicing my support for his cause." Charlie replied calmly. "I had a donation to make."

"Please tell me this is not some fucked up plan by... Birdie. Please keep him away from this guy."

"I'm my own person, Lou." Charlie said angrily. "I make my own choices. And I'm not his babysitter."

"Just tell me... Is he going after him? Is Oz going after McNamara?"

"Trying to be a double agent?"

"No, I'm trying to keep everything from falling apart."

"You can chill then. This was personal business. And Oswald is in no way involved."

"I'm going to hold you to your word then."

"Why are you so agitated anyway? Did something happen during those ten minutes I was gone?"

"I had a moment with Bruce Wayne." Louise finally admitted, nervously crossing her arms and looking away in shame. Charlie raised her brows in disbelief. "Okay? We had a moment. We talked about Harvey Dent and I almost cried and now I really, _really_ hate myself. He was his friends and I worked with him and... Fuck."

Louise paused for a moment to catch her breath.

"I think Wayne's more hurt by this whole Oswald situation than he lets other people see." she said finally, her voice much calmer. "Oswald... Fuck. I can't believe I'm about to say it, but he... He leaves a trail of broken people behind him."

"Lou..."

"No, I know, I know, you're not the right person to have this conversation with." Louise sighed, waving her hand. "You love him, all that jazz. I just hope... There will be no more."

Few more hours had passed, and they were found by Jonathan Crane, accompanied by a bubbly, young woman.

"Miss district attorney, miss Charlie!" he greeted them exuberantly. "What a lovely evening we're having."

"I think I saw the ghosts of Thomas and Martha Wayne in the garden!" his partner giggled. "Or it was just a random middle-aged couple in white making out, who knows!"

"Shhhh!" Crane shushed her with a wide smile on his face. "Ladies, this is Harleen, my brightest, _brightest_ student... And also my right hand."

"It's not fair to play favorites, professor. And... _Illegal._ " Louise said with a wink and Crane gasped in fake shock.

"It's a good thing I'm his _ex-student_ then." Harleen said with a smile. "I no longer have any classes with him, but he's still overseeing my doctorate. But... He likes to introduce me like this to shock people."

"Trying to ruin your own image, doctor?" Charlie asked with a smile and Crane laughed in response.

(Jonathan Crane was a _delight_ to have around and she absolutely understood every person blindly enamored with him.)

All in all, it was a pleasant evening - but Charlie wasn’t at all sad when it was time for her to go home. Members of Gotham social elite were tolerable - but they were not the company she was craving.

“Hey, Louise. Can I ask you something?” she asked as they were walking to where Louise parked her car.

“Shoot.”

“I know you dated Vicki Vale. Do you… Miss her?” she asked, thinking back to that weird time when she was convinced Oswald is actually in love with Vale and only sees her as a replacement for his partner in crime, who ignited the scorching flame of his resentment.

“Why do you ask?” Louise asked after a long, heavy pause.

“Oswald lives with me.” Charlie said softly. “A living, breathing testament of what happened in Gotham. And I just wondered… If maybe we’re on the same boat.”

“I… Don’t know.” Louise admitted, looking away. “It was a messy breakup, I said some things I didn’t mean, I never took them back… And then Arkham Asylum collapsed and it was too late for me to take _anything_ back. So my last memory of her… Is ugly. And painful. But she wasn’t always like that, you know?” she added. “Same way Oswald isn’t always furious and cruel. Most of the times, Vicki was… A delight. Very sweet, kind of cocky… But then there was all that ugliness.” she sighed. “All that anger. I guess she was too far gone for me to do anything about it. Oswald… Oswald still has a _chance_. Crane talked some sense into him, or maybe nailed it to his brain, using self help books as a hammer. It’s a shame he didn’t use this method on her as well.”

“Vicki was his patient?”

“Briefly. Eventually she decided she doesn’t need therapy, that she’ll figure her problems out by herself.” Louise said with a bitter chuckle. “And she did.”

“I’m sorry.” Charlie said after a long pause. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s alright. Actually, you’re the first person to ask me about her. I think everyone else just assumed that since we broke up… I’m fine. But I kind of am not.” she said quietly. “It kind of feels good to finally get it off my chest. I should do it more often.”

“Well, you know where to find me.”

“Yeah, but why? You’re so friendly and willing to help and on board with everything coming from Maroni’s inner circle and Maroni himself. Why? You barely know us.”

“Maybe I’m just desperate for a new family.” Charlie said with a nonchalant shrug, feeling a sting of pain in her chest. “Plus - I _am_ from the inner circle. I’m the emergency bank account. Do you ever wonder why does he do it?” she asked suddenly. “Maroni, I mean. It makes sense for him to have a net of cops and journalists at his disposal, since he practically took over the decent part of Falcone’s empire and needs good publicity - but why is he helping Oswald?”

“I’ve been trying to figure it out for quite some time, actually - and came up with nothing. He never actually _mentioned_ any reason. He’s just… Doing it.”

“Alright, so I guess I’ll just… Play along.” Charlie said hesitantly. “I don’t need to know the details. I just… I just don’t want Oswald to end up in jail.”

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” she said quietly. “I guess I do. He makes me feel the way I felt before everything went to shit, you know?”

“Even though he’s a criminal?”

“No one’s perfect, but Oswald’s flaws… His flaws fit _my_ flaws.”

(She killed the man who took everything from her, she hunted him down like an animal, she was vengeful, merciless, his blood on her hands warm like a sense of fleeting satisfaction.)

“Fair enough.”

***

The morning after the party Charlie saw her fourth dead body.

She woke up early, still getting used to her new life; it was a misty morning, and Oswald was asleep next to her. Asleep he always looked so peaceful, and she smiled lightly, remembering the moment she realized she’s harboring feelings for him; it was after a night they spent at Peperoncino, and she woke up in his arms and looked at his calm face and messy hair and _realized_. She liked waking up next to him; a semblance of normality.

She decided to go out for a walk; her home was located fairly close to the river coast and she liked looking at the city proper, located across the water, hidden behind fog. It always looked so calm; especially at that part of day, when it was just waking up.

Initially she thought it’s just a piece of wood, lying on the sandy shore; but then she remembered - this is Gotham. She slowly walked up to the dark object and sighed, realizing what is she looking at; a body of a tall, pale, muscular man, probably around late fifties. There was a gaping hole in his forehead, and his face was frozen in a grotesque expression of pleading shock; so it took her a while to recognize him as Roman Sionis, the second richest man in Gotham, Bruce Wayne’s business rival. She saw him at the party last night; she never spoke to him - because there was no point in doing so - but she remembered he noticed her staring at him and politely nodded to her, before returning to his conversation with Thomas Elliot, the surgeon.

Charlie was torn - she could act like a good citizen and call the police, or could pretend she didn’t see anything. Both options had their perks - good citizen points versus nobody as much as glancing in the direction of her personal life.

She didn’t have her phone on her anyway; she left it in the bedroom. So she went home and went downstairs, where Oswald was still asleep - Oswald, a criminal mastermind who remained at large for years, who maintained his double identity. Maybe not the best person to ask for advice - but definitely a good start.

“Oswald.” she said, sitting down on the bed. “Oswald.”

“Mmmm?” he muttered, not opening his eyes. “What?”

“I found a body on the shore.”

“Welcome to Gotham.” Oswald muttered, rolling onto his stomach. “Happens all the time.”

“It’s the body of Roman Sionis.”

That… Well, that certainly didn’t work like a bucket of cold water - but at least got him to open one eye.

“Oh.” he said with a yawn. “Well, I didn’t do it.”

“I… Know that.” she said slowly. “Should I call the cops?”

“Call Bullock.” he muttered. “And give him my regards.”

And with that, he fell back asleep - completely unbothered by the fact somehow Gotham’s second richest man got a bullet in his brain.

But she did as he said; she called Bullock, who wasn’t exactly happy about being woken up at six - but he quickly changed his mind when she told him about the corpse.

“Are you _sure_ this is Roman Sionis?”

“Does it matter? It’s still a body. Of someone who used to be alive.”

“Right, right.” Bullock muttered. “Alright, we’ll be there in fifteen. And we’ll probably take you in for questioning.”

“Will you be entering my house?”

“No, there’s no point. Your loverboy’s safe.”

The police arrived fifteen minutes later, and shortly after - the first journalist popped out. Charlie wasn’t too surprised to see Misty Haze, the first person she befriended in Gotham; of course she was there. Her wife was the sister of one of the cops that arrived with Bullock; Rocco greeted Charlie and Misty with a casual nod.

The journalist stood next to Charlie, silently looking at the corpse.

“Oswald didn’t do it.” Charlie said quietly before Misty said anything. “I left the party before Sionis, and spent rest of the night with Oswald. He didn’t do it.”

“That’s one suspect off the list, at least off _my_ list.” Misty replied, glancing at her briefly. “But _someone_ did it. Anyway. Care to answer a few questions?”

“Only for you.”

They took her in for questioning after Misty was finished with her; they drove her to the police station and asked her some questions. Nothing big, nothing indicating anyone as much as considered her to be a suspect; after all, she had no ties to Roman Sionis, no possible motive. Sure, she was seen being friendly with Bruce Wayne - but Bruce Wayne was seen being friendly with everyone in Gotham, Roman Sionis included.

But like the old saying goes - when in Rome, do as Romans do. When in Gotham - when _living_ in Gotham - avoiding this city's nature forever is impossible. Sooner or later - Gotham will catch up with you. Sooner or later, the decay will find you. And Charlie was no exception; the rot found her at the police station, hiding behind the beautiful, heartbroken face of Thomas Elliot - the chief surgeon at the Gotham General Hospital. Elliot was another person Charlie knew of, despite never speaking to him directly; everyone knew him and the miracles he could do with surgical tools and human lives. He was said to have hands blessed by god and face sculpted by Bernini; not much was known about his private life, as he was rather secretive - but everyone knew he and Roman Sionis seem to be very good friends.

He was heartbroken at the loss of his friend, absolutely miserable; he reminded her of herself after she lost her parents. There wasn’t much she could do, and there was something devastating in what death does to people; in mourning, when facing unspeakable loss - everyone’s equal. With that thought at the back of her head, Charlie brought him a cup of tea from the near vending machine.

“T-thank you.” Elliot muttered, taking the tea from her. “Are you the person who found him..?”

“Yes.” she said softly. “I’m very sorry for your loss, mister Elliot.”

“Please, call me Thomas.”

They went out for a walk that afternoon; even though Elliot was a stranger - she didn’t want to leave him alone. She could imagine how he must feel, after losing someone so close to him; she knew this painful emptiness, this numbing, paralyzing sense of loss.

“Thank you for your company.” he eventually said. “Can I ask for your phone number? I… I would love to repay the favor one day.”

She smiled faintly, instantly recognizing the first notes of a melody she knew too well - the mating dance, the courting game of cat and mouse. But fine; she could play along for a little bit, humor him with her presence. She figured she won’t be able to evade courtship forever - she was well aware of her charms, and the amount of bachelors in Gotham. She could dance. She knew the steps.

***

For a short time, it felt like Gotham is bombarding her with twists and turns; or maybe she simply decided to settle down at a wrong time. Maybe it was just a coincidence that she found herself at the crossroads; after all, none of these things was about _her_ directly.

The second - after coming across a body of a well-known businessman - odd thing Gotham threw at her was all about Esme and Misty. Maroni’s secretary found herself to be an object of Joker’s interest; which, by itself, wasn’t shocking. Esme Midnight was as gorgeous as her name was pretentious, and Joker had a reputation of a sadistic creep of sorts; everyone knew what the clown does to pretty girls, and it involved needles and knives and pain. No, the odd part was the fact - the Joker actually sent her a message. It couldn’t possibly mean anything good - but Esme seemed to be handling it pretty well, all things considered.

“I’m not going to the police.” she stated, twisting and turning the card from the Joker between her fingers. “Maybe it’s just a tasteless joke.”

It was her choice, and Charlie accepted it; Esme knew Gotham and its inner workings. She was Falcone’s secretary for years; it was more than likely she has some ace hidden up her sleeve.

The next surprise was Charlie’s own fault. She was at a grocery store one afternoon, few days after the corpse of Roman Sionis was discovered; upon entering, she called Oswald.

"I'm buying some food." she informed him; she knew he's home, because she could hear the characteristic sounds of their bathtub. "Want something? ...and please don't say _you_ , it's very flattering, but not very helpful."

"You got me." he snickered and she smiled, grabbing few cans of her favorite coconut milk. "Actually I'd kill for some camembert."

"...that was not a hyperbole, was it?"

"I killed for less." he said nonchalantly and she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Was that a sigh, Charlie?"

"For your own good I hope you were talking about la petite mort." she muttered, passing the Zellerbachs. "So, camembert... Anything else?"

"Cinnamon rolls. Oh, and buttermilk. And avocado."

"Yuck." she said quietly, spotting Bruce Wayne's butler looking at tea with infinite contempt in his eyes. "Oh hey, Bruce's butler's here."

"His name is Alfred." she heard Wayne's amused voice coming from behind her and almost dropped her phone.

"Mister Wayne!" she said with a - mostly - fake joy, turning around and turning her phone off, cutting Oswald off in the middle of a sentence. Bruce Wayne furrowed his brows.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't realized..."

"No, it's alright, it was a terribly boring call anyway." she lied through her teeth. "I... You know, there's something surreal in seeing you in a grocery store."

"Yeah. I get that quite often." he said slowly, not taking his eyes off her. "Please. Let's switch to first names. We're practically neighbors."

"Now when you mention it, I almost feel bad for not paying you a typical visit after moving in." she said with a faint smile, moving to another aisle, in search of buttermilk. Bruce Wayne followed, his calm demeanor making an unnerving counterpoint for her thinly veiled anxiety.

(How much did he hear?)

"It's never too late for catching up." he suggested casually and she raised her eyebrows, trying to guess which buttermilk is better. "You've seen the inside of my house, it's only fair I got a chance to see the inside of yours."

"I'm... Sorry, Bruce." she said apologetically, frantically trying to figure out the best excuse; at some point her brain just... Gave up. "My domesticated penguin won't like you."

"I... Beg your pardon?" Bruce Wayne asked, understandably surprised.

"My puppy." she corrected herself instantly, wondering if this is what hell feels like. "His name is Pingu, and... He hates strangers. Especially men."

"Pingu, huh." he repeated, sounding amused. "Alright. But you can still consider yourself invited for tea, you know. With or without your arctic anklebiter... But preferably without."

Oswald was thrilled to hear what she told Bruce.

"Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen, I love you." he said solemnly, not mentioning the suspicious lack of camembert in the bag. "I want to raise a dog with you. I want to conquer Gotham with you. I want to destroy Bruce Wayne with you."

Her cheeks turned red, and she smiled; it felt odd, loving Oswald Cobblepot as much as she did - but she was getting used to it. It was an odd sensation, living a domestic life with a wanted criminal - but she didn’t mind; even though there is a lot of things love can't cure, a lot of wounds it can't mend - and Charlie knew it damn well. Oswald was... Maybe not exactly a _good_ person - but he was _good_ to her. He was patient, he made her feel safe, his presence was somehow calming her sudden impulses to get on her bike she inherited from her dad and leave and never look back.

(He almost robbed a bank to show her he's not using her, to tell her he's being genuine.)

But there were things he couldn't remedy - such as nightmares. Sudden panic attacks, when her memories resurfaced, triggered by something small and unimportant. Those things were rare - but maybe that'd explain why they were so damn intense.

During most mornings, when Charlie woke up, Oswald would be next to her, still asleep. Sometimes his limbs would be wrapped around her. Sometimes he'd be lying on his stomach. Sometimes he'd be snoring.

(Sometimes she'd remain motionless for some time after waking up, just silently looking at his face, tracing his features with her eyes. Crow's feet next to his eyes and his narrow lips and a scar, running across the bridge of his nose; she loved this scar for some reason. Sometimes she'd just stare, wondering what could have happened if she came back to Gotham sooner.)

He was there when she woke up nine times out of ten - but he wasn't at her side when she woke up one morning, about two weeks after her morning discovery, three days after Esme received a letter from the Joker. He wasn't there; instead there was an empty spot in her bed.

(He was gone for long enough the mattress was no longer warm when she sleepily reached out to where he should be.)

She had a nightmare that night - a recollection of her last meeting with her husband, of that day she killed him, of everything, of his hot blood on her fingers and his lifeless body at her feet. It was a graphic, unpleasant dream - and waking up in an empty bed afterwards, just like that one morning when everything went to hell didn't help.

"Oswald?" she muttered, still half asleep, looking around the room. "Oz?"

But he was nowhere to be seen or heard and she felt cold fear piercing her heart and an unpleasant, nauseating, tingling numbness clouding her thoughts.

_He wasn't there. He was long gone when she woke up, his side of bed cold, and no message, no explanation-_

“Did you say something?” Oswald said, entering the room and she sighed with relief. It was just a dream; just her paranoia, just her anxiety.

It was Saturday; she had no plans for that day, no obligations, no fundraisers to attend, no dinner parties to get through. What she had planned, was a lazy day for her and her beloved; a normal day, pretending they’re a normal couple, and not a criminal and his accomplice.

“I want breakfast.” she said, and he raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms.

“Did you just have a panic attack?”

She sighed, looking away. That was not the first time it happened; but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing. She was a grown woman, panicking when her lover - a wanted, violent criminal - isn’t there when she wakes up. It’s not like she expected him to stab her in the back - but it definitely wouldn’t be uncalled for.

“Yeah.” she admitted. “I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” he said, shaking his head. “I have anger issues, you have panic attacks… Trauma does that to people.”

“Crane really talked some sense into you, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t, I’m just way more intelligent than people think.” he said with a wink. “I’m bloody brilliant. Come on, let’s soothe your nerves with the best remedy in history - breakfast food. Who needs antidepressants when waffles exist?”

"Carry me?" she asked, not moving from her side of bed and he sighed theatrically and picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Things we do for love." he muttered as she burrowed her face in his shoulder.

(He was there. He was real.)

"So, what do you want?" he asked as they reached the kitchen and he sat her down on the surface of the table. "Since you obviously feel like shit I'm going to not be an asshole. What do you want me to make?"

"I dunno. What do you feel like making?"

"Scrambled eggs the way I used to eat them back in the UK." he said, opening the fridge. "It's... Not actually a recipe, it's just an omelette for people who never learned how to flip an omelette. Or for anxious slavic ladies who have a family to feed."

He he started to dice an onion and some sausage; and she loved watching the way he was using knives. It didn't look or feel like a tool in his hands - more like a natural limb extension. Carelessly and effortlessly the metal blade was flying across the cutting board and he looked up and notice her focused gaze.

(His eyes were filled with tears and he was sniffling slightly; it looked like she bought one hell of an onion earlier this week.)

"Do you like knives, love?" he asked, throwing the onions and meat into a pan and turning the heat on. "You've been staring."

"I do, actually. I once had a fling with a guy who made me realize... I actually _like_ this stuff. It was... Well, not exactly life-changing, but it was definitely a welcome realization."

"Noted." he said with a smirk and a wink, stirring the contents of the pan. "Hey. Watch this."

He grabbed a bowl, a spatula and an egg; he then proceeded to throw the egg up in the air. It landed - and cracked - on the edge of the spatula he was holding, its liquid content falling into a bowl.

"Show-off." she sighed and he grinned, cracking rest of the eggs normally and whisking them with some canned tomatoes.

"How come we only have tomatoes in cans?" he asked, pouring the mix into a pan. "I was sure you can... Afford fresh."

(He said _we_.)

"Fresh tomatoes are a scam." she said firmly and he chuckled. "They taste like watery sadness. Alright, they _look_ nice - but that's it. And I want _flavor._ "

"Then you never had a fresh tomato from a garden of someone who knows what they're doing. We have to fix it some day."

He put some bread in the toaster and started making tea.

"Also you should probably do some grocery shopping." he added eventually and she sighed. "We're out... Well, almost everything."

"We'll order online. I still don't have a car... And I don't think anyone will be happy to see you in Whole Foods."

"Well, I know I won't be happy to see myself in Whole Foods. This chain is a rip-off."

"But they have those peanut butter cookies you like."

"That's true." he said, sighing heavily. "We're... Out of them, by the way."

"I bought five boxes!"

"That's... Also true."

"We gotta work on your self-control."

"It sounds shockingly ominous, considering it's coming from someone who's sitting with her tits out." he said and she winked at him as he turned off the heat.

"One day I'm going to get my revenge on you." she promised and he snickered, setting down two plates of scrambled eggs and toast. "I swear."

"Of course, darling. Of course."

She liked those mundane days, when she could simply stay home and enjoy his company; his presence made her feel at peace, and she loved the sound of his voice and the way he looked at her. That day, it was just the two of them - and Pingu, the Shiba Inu puppy Charlie took from a nearby shelter. It was a delightful, little creature that constantly demanded treats and attention and cuddles - and with Oswald around, Charlie was sure Pingu will grow up to be the most spoiled dog in Gotham. It was a bizarre feeling, watching Oswald and Pingu; on one hand, she was well aware of everything Oswald is capable of, of the deaths he caused, of his revolution, delusions of grandeur and bloody vendetta against Bruce Wayne - but on the other hand there he was, ever so patiently teaching the pup to bark every time he sees Bruce Wayne.

“Are you trying to turn him into a partner in crime?” Charlie asked, standing in the doorway.

“Yes.” Oswald replied without looking up. “Once the Penguin returns he’ll be accompanied by the fiercest bloodhound Gotham had ever seen.”

Their terrifying beast of a dog rolled onto its back and Oswald rubbed its tummy vigorously.

“Who’s the second best boy in Gotham? Who’s the second fiercest boy in Gotham? You! You are!”

“And who’s number one?”

“Me, of course.” Oswald said with a wink, glancing at her briefly and she laughed.

But even that peaceful, mundane day carried a surprise - a visitor, to be precise. A tall woman, all dressed in white - except for her face, which was hidden behind a black mask resembling a skull. The woman appeared in Charlie’s living room around midnight; she snuck in without a sound, without as much as a single alerting bark from Pingu.

And the weirdest part was - she was talking to Oswald like she knew him, like his presence in Gotham wasn’t a secret, like he wasn’t a wanted criminal and she wasn’t an intruder.

“Charlie!” Oswald called out after noticing her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because there’s a masked stranger in my living room, and I thought this is supposed to be _your_ hideout. I’m not willing to shelter anyone else.” she said sharply and the stranger nodded solemnly.

“I don’t need a hideout.” she assured Charlie, her voice distorted. “And I mean you no harm.”

“But _who_ are you?” Charlie asked, deciding to play along; when in Rome, do as Romans do - everyone else seemed to be used to the presence of masked heroes and criminals. Hell - she was _living_ with one.

“I am the Black Mask.” the woman replied calmly.

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Good. It means you’re still one of the good guys. Only the wretched and miserable call out for me.”

“Oswald?” Charlie asked hesitantly; but he shook his head.

“Black Mask came to me.” he stated. “Which is… Flattering, and also very, very unsettling.”

“I still don’t understand.”

Mask nodded in Oswald’s direction; he sighed and began his explanation.

Every time in history has its conspiracy theories about who’s really running the show, about who’s pulling the strings; in Gotham’s case - there was at least a seed of truth in those stories. The city’s criminal underground was way bigger than Falcone’s empire, way darker than the urges of Scarecrow and Joker, way more twisted than Lady Arkham’s anger - and at the bottom of this deep pit of debauchery and mischief was Black Mask, the elusive puppeteer, an opportunist, a criminal entrepreneur. For the right price, Mask was prepared to help anyone who was crafty enough to find a way of contacting them. Black Mask was quietly controlling the tides and currents of the criminal underworld; they were doing so for decades, the title being passed from man to man, from woman to woman. In order to become a Mask, one had to only accomplish one thing - figure out the identity of the current one, thus proving their incompetence. When confronted about this, Black Mask was expected to hand their title over to their successor - along with everything that came with it, every blood penny, list of debts, every key to a well-hidden stash.

“And the previous Mask refused to cooperate.” the current one added. “So I did what I had to do. I took what’s rightfully mine… By force.”

“Roman Sionis.” Charlie said faintly - and Mask nodded.

“Bravo! Penguin was right when he claimed you’re clever. Yes, Roman Sionis was the Black Mask for years - but then I came along.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask… Why are you telling me this?”

“You’re Penguin’s accomplice, aren’t you? I came to your house to talk business with him. It’s only fair you get a say in the matter as well. Come on, Charlie. We both know you’re no saint.”

“Right.” Charlie sighed, knowing this is the exact moment she ends up mixed up into something she’d rather avoid; she came to Gotham looking for a fresh start - but it seemed like soon she’ll have to look for another start in another city.

“I had dealings with the previous Mask.” Oswald added. “Well, me and Lady Arkham. He equipped our little revolution… In return, only asking for a favor.”

“And even though Sionis is dead - the debt remains.” Mask added. “And I came here to collect it. And considering Lady Arkham is nowhere to be seen… It’s her guarantor’s duty to take care of it.”

Oswald looked tense. He tried to mask it - but Charlie also learned to read him.

“Relax, Penguin.” Black Mask said. “I don’t want money. What I want… Is some manpower. A help with a thorn in my side.”

“Whatever you need, Mask.”

Black Mask nodded.

“Splendid! Strap on, this is going to be lengthy.” she warned them. “Are you aware of the recent wave of disappearances in the Slavic Quarter?”

Charlie furrowed her brows; Slavic Quarter was a medium-sized district located on the south-eastern part of Gotham, populated almost entirely by immigrants from various parts of Central and Eastern Europe. It wasn’t the best part of Gotham; it was known for frequent riots and fights, as well as being home to some of the best takeout places.

“I’m not aware of the majority of things happening in Gotham these days.” Oswald admitted. “I’m out of the loop.”

“Then you better catch up, friend. Plenty of people went missing recently - plenty of people who owed _me_ something.” Mask added in a serious tone. “But nothing big enough to make it impossible to pay back - a small favor, some cash, something like this. Nothing big enough to be a good reason for skipping town en masse.”

“You think someone’s going after your debtors.” Oswald guessed and Mask nodded.

“Ding! I _know_ someone’s going after my debtors. Roman Sionis - not Mask, but Sionis personally, mind this - received plenty of gifts and favors of value comparable to what those people owed me… And without a fail, every time he’d receive it - someone went missing. Without a trace.”

“Go on.” Oswald said, looking very focused.

“Black Mask has friends all over Gotham. And one of those friends was kind enough to give me a name of person regularly showering Sionis with gifts. And that name is-”

“Thomas Elliot.” Charlie interrupted Mask abruptly; the masked queen of the underworld nodded.

“That is correct, yes. How did you know?”

“I was the person who found Sionis on the shore.” she said, trying to look past the mask, trying to figure out who’s behind this bizarre situation. “And I met Elliot. We talked, he took me out for coffee… He was a close friend of Sionis. And he’s rich, and secretive… So it’s all just a matter of connecting the dots.”

She was good at connecting the dots; that was all she did for two years when she was searching for Harry. Connecting dots and scraps and shreds of information.

“My goodness, Penguin.” Mask said, nodding again. “Smart girl, this one. You seem to have a thing for smart girls.”

“She is not like Lady Arkham.” Oswald said, his voice breaking.

“You don’t know that. Miss Vale… Also used to be sweet and smart. And look at where it got her.”

“Enough!” Oswald snapped, tightly squeezing Charlie’s hand; Mask snickered.

“Watch it, Penguin.” she said quietly, menacingly. “I’m still in control.”

Oswald closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“Alright.” he said after a while, his eyes still closed. “So what is this favor you mentioned?”

“Find my debtors.” Mask said very calmly. “Find out what does Elliot have to do with their disappearance.”

“And why can’t _you_ do it?”

“Because I don’t want to.” Mask said with a shrug. “And because you… Are more of a wildcard. And now, it seems… You have an additional asset.”

“No.” Oswald said instantly, opening his eyes, as Charlie stood there, for a moment trying to figure out what are they talking about. “Forget it.”

“You mean me, right?” Charlie said slowly. “I’m the asset.”

“Yes you are.” Mask agreed. “Now, Penguin, before you throw a hissy fit… Let me finish.”

“Alright.” he said quietly, looking like a deflated balloon. “Continue.”

“There are two ways to do this: the gentle one and the violent one.” Mask stated. “The gentle option will be all about your lovely dove and gentle persuasion. The violent one… Will require you to become Penguin once again. I know you’ve been planning a comeback anyway, remember: Black Mask has friends _everywhere_. But, back to the point. It would be simple, and quick - and entail precisely what you did back in the day.”

“But that was Lady Arkham’s doing. She discovered everything, I… I was just the executioner. A red herring.”

“Too bad.” Mask retorted with a shrug. “Because it would fit your established modus operandi perfectly - discovering Roman’s secret, declaring a war with the Mask and going after Elliot and his filthy secrets. A beautiful parallel to what happened with Wayne and Falcone and Hill.”

“Can you give me a proof of Roman Sionis being the Mask? Something I could present to the public?”

“I can make you one.”

Mask got up and smoothed down the fabric of her perfectly white jacket.

“I will give you a week to think about how do you want to do this.” she informed Oswald. “Because you _have_ to do it. At least be grateful for having any choice in this matter.”

She left; and Charlie slowly sat down on the couch, processing everything she just heard. It was a lot of information - a lot of information that felt like something she wasn’t supposed to know. It looked like merely being in Oswald’s life was an event horizon by itself; it didn’t matter she simply wanted a fresh start - she was a part of his dealings whether she wanted it or not.

And - much to her own surprise - she didn’t _mind_.

“That’s… Unexpected.” she said, breaking the silence. “And a lot to take in.”

“I can imagine.” Oswald muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How are things between you and this… Thomas Elliot?”

She looked away, looking for the right words. Things were going… Pretty good, actually - Elliot was charismatic and charming and she could imagine herself having a future with him. He was a bachelor, and he was very obviously interested with him; but even despite his fortune and stellar public reputation - there was one thing he couldn’t give her, one thing she really wanted.

“Are you jealous?”

“Of the fact he gets to be out and about with you? Yeah.” he admitted, looking at her; but there was a question in his eyes, one he for some reason didn’t ask.

She answered it anyway.

“He’s not you.” she said softly. “And no matter what he does, no matter what he says… He’ll never replace you.”

“I wasn’t doubting that.” he stated, his eyes filled with relief. “I am one of a kind and absolutely irresistible.”

“Yes, you are.” she agreed. “So… What now?”

“Now I need to figure out how to do this. I’d rather… Avoid getting you, of all people, mixed up with Black Mask. They’re always ruthless, and cunning like a fairy. You say one wrong word… And you’re fucked.”

“But why?” she asked quietly. “I can help. I’m not a delicate flower, Oswald. I’m a widow, because I killed my husband.”

“Let’s just say this is my pragmatism getting the better of me, alright? If you screw up, if this goes badly - I’ll be completely and utterly fucked.” he said, sounding almost nervous. “I dragged down a lot of people. I don’t want to do this to the only person who gives a crap about me. Vicki’s disappearance hit me like a brick. I don’t think I’m ready to lose another person. I don’t think Gotham’s ready for me to lose another person.” he blurted out.

“Oswald.”

He didn’t look at her, instead scratching Pingu’s tummy.

“Oswald.” she repeated, a bit louder; this time he looked at her. She patted the spot on the couch next to her.

“Sit with me.”

He did, and she took his hand, watching him attentively; she never saw him this way, so nervous, so tense.

“I love you.” he finally said, his voice breaking. “But every time I love someone - I end up losing them. And I don’t want you to be on that list as well.”

“You won’t lose me.” she said softly. “Alright? You won’t. I promise.”

He turned his head and looked at her and her heart almost broke; he looked like a kicked puppy.

“Your puppy eyes are a weapon of mass destruction.” she sighed. “But you can’t do this as Penguin. You lost… Everything. How much time would it take you to get half the assets you lost?”

“Months.”

“See? And I bet it’ll take me half as much time to get to Elliot. You know I have a way with people. I talked my way out of dozens of bar fights, I charmed people out of their pants… Literally.” she added with a smirk. “That’s how we met, remember? I charmed you out of your clothes.”

“That’s not what happened!” he protested. “I charmed _you_ out of _your_ clothes and into my bed.”

She scoffed and he laughed; he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer and she rested her head against his chest.

“Let’s meet in the middle.” he eventually said. “You try to charm your way into Elliot’s trust, and I’ll… See what I can do. I know at least some of my friends are still walking the streets, that’s a good start. I still have money on offshore accounts, and I think Esme might get me in touch with whoever was Falcone’s weapon supplier. You do your magic, and I… I’ll hit him a few times, make him fragile. How about that?”

“Does this make me your partner in crime?”

“Oh, absolutely.” he said quietly, playing with her hair. “You’re willing to help, and I’m not a fool. From now on… We’re partners. Not just romantically speaking.”

“Good.” she whispered. “You’re turning me into a bad, bad girl…”

“Mmm, I happen to quite like it when you’re bad.”

He was in the middle of showing her just how much he likes it when she’s bad when her phone rang.

It was Louise; and she sounded distressed.

“What’s up?” Charlie asked feverishly, sitting up.

“I need Crane, but he’s not picking up.” Louise said, her voice shaking. “I know he lives somewhere near you, can you get him for me?”

“Uh, sure.” Charlie replied, hastily putting her panties back on with her free hand; Oswald groaned in the background. “What’s going on?”

But Louise already hung up; Charlie groaned and got up.

“Where are you going?” Oswald asked as she was looking for her car keys.

“Louise needs me to get Crane. I think something’s going down.”

“Wait, I’m coming with you.”

“There are cameras everywhere in Lou’s building.” she said, shaking her head; but Oswald was very stubborn.

“And I know their blind spots. I was there plenty of times and no one saw me.”

“Fine! Just hurry up. And stay in the car when I’ll be getting Crane.”

The windows at Jonathan’s house were dark; and it took Charlie a good few minutes of ringing the doorbell to get him to open the door. He clearly was asleep.

“Charlie?” he asked sleepily. “What’s going on?”

“Louise needs some help.” she said frantically; that worked like a bucket of ice cold water. Crane’s eyes snapped open instantly.

“Give me five minutes.” he said, turning around. “I’ll get dressed and get my bag.”

“Allo, doctor.” Oswald said as Crane was getting into Charlie’s car. “Pleasant night we’re having.”

“Good evening, Oswald. How are you?”

“Stable.” Oswald said with a shrug. “Been a while since I did something reckless.”

“Good, good.” Crane said with a vigorous nod. “Keep it up and you’ll be an actual menace again in no time.”

Oswald didn’t lie about knowing a safe route to Louise’s apartment - even though she didn’t seem too happy about his presence.

“What is he doing here?!”

“He insisted.” Charlie said defensively. “Lou, what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you later, I promise. Jonathan…”

“Lead me.” Crane said, putting his hand on her shoulder; Louise nodded and lead him into one of the rooms, closing the door behind them before Charlie and Oswald could see what’s going on.

They found out soon enough; after about two hours Crane and Louise returned, Louise looking much calmer. Crane, on the other hand, looked very moved; Oswald looked at him attentively.

“What is going on?” he finally asked; Louise sighed, rubbing her forehead with her hand.

“It’ll be easier to just show you.” she eventually said, turning around. “Follow me.”

She opened the door and stepped aside, letting them in; they went inside and looked around.

Oswald realized first.

"...that's impossible." he said shakily, staring at a pale, skeletally thin figure wrapped in a blanket sitting on Louise's bed. "It... Can't be."

"Hello, Oswald." Vicki Vale - pale and bony and tired and with arms covered in scars - said, giving him the faintest of smiles.

"Vicki... Vicki!" he repeated tearfully, walking up to her and pretty much dropping down on his knees in front of her. "I was sure you're dead!"

"Wouldn't be the first time you assumed something that turned out to be wrong." she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and burrowing her face in his shoulder, as he embraced her tightly.

Charlie stood perfectly motionless in the doorway, very resigned Louise right next to her.

"You aren't jealous, aren't you?" she asked quietly. "We've been through it already. Stone cold lesbian."

"I'm not jealous." she replied equally quietly; and she was telling the truth. It wasn't jealousy. Once the initial shock washed off, she felt... Relieved. "I think... I'm actually happy. For them."

(On the bed, Oswald Cobblepot and Vicki Vale were crying in each other's arms, like they were long lost siblings, and not terrorists who almost brought the city to its knees. A small piece of innocence long lost, regained; some peace of mind, at last.)

She never met Vale before; but she saw her photos and she knew she used to be beautiful, bright, eye-catching. The woman on Lou's bed looked like a shadow of her former self; skeletally thin, her arms covered in scars, her hair short and matted, giant dark circles under her eyes.

_She was a little shit, and an even worse person than me, but… She understood. And that’s more than can be said about almost everyone in this bloody city._

"What is going on?" she finally asked quietly, turning to Louise, who looked uneasy and anxious and tense again; she never saw her like this. "We've already established I'm not jealous, but..."

"No, no, I know." Louise interrupted her, not taking her eyes off her ex girlfriend and Cobblepot. "Are you going to judge me, Charlie? You? Of all people?" Louise asked mockingly and Charlie rolled her eyes, but remained silent. Louise was right - she was the last person in Gotham with any right at all to judge or even criticize Louise. They were doing the same exact thing.

(Oswald and Vicki stopped crying and were now staring at each other in complete silence.)

"Do you want some relationship tips?" Charlie asked finally, and Louise scoffed. "Fuck. I don't know what to say. I have no idea what was I expecting to see, but it sure as hell wasn't... This."

"You and me both." Louise sighed, rubbing her forehead with her hand.

After some time, Vicki turned her attention to Charlie.

"I don't know you. Who are you?"

"I moved to Gotham recently." she replied carefully, slowly sitting down. "I'm Charlie."

"She can be trusted." Oswald said quietly. "She's sheltering me. Also... We're a thing."

"Good for you." Vicki said calmly, her eyes still on Charlie. "I assume you've heard about me."

"I might be new to town, but I've done my homework."

"Good. Ignorance is the root of all evil. I'm glad to know you're not ignorant."

Her eyes moved back to Oswald.

"Is he safe with you?"

"Are you safe with her?" she asked in response, pointing to Louise who only scoffed; Vicki shot her a quick, pale smile.

"Then we have reached an agreement. Good."

“This changes everything.” Oswald said frantically; but Vicki sighed, shaking her head.

“No, Oswald.” she said quietly. “It doesn’t. I nearly died. I’m tired.”

“What?” Oswald asked with disbelief. “But what we did- it was _your_ cause! You can’t just abandon it!”

“I can and I will, Oswald. I never considered Batman as a part of the equation. I wasn’t prepared for him. _We_ weren’t prepared for him.”

“But-”

“This is enough.” Louise interrupted him. “Please, just… Just go. She’s not going anywhere, you can talk this out any other day, just… Just…”

“We’re going.” Charlie said softly, putting her hand on Louise’s shoulder. “Come on, Oswald.”

“But what about our plans?” Oswald asked desperately. “What about Bruce Wayne?”

“Charlie, get him out of my apartment before I call the cops on him.”

“Oswald, please. Let’s go.”

He let her lead him out of the room, where Crane was waiting ever so patiently; he looked broken, and desperate, and _angry_.

“Lady Arkham died in the Arkham Asylum.” Oswald said quietly as they were leaving. “And it’s fine. It’s her right. It just means… I’ll have to finish what we started. One way… Or another.”

She didn’t say anything, instead only looking at him; he looked calm, almost relaxed. He kept his head high and had a look of determination in his eyes. Crane also remained silent, even though she could see concern in his eyes.

“What now?” she asked after dropping Jonathan off; Oswald glanced at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Your plans. What now? Now that you heard Vicki’s done?”

“I’ll think of something.” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll get my revenge on Wayne, one way or another. Is your offer of help still a thing?”

“All my offers are a thing.” she said softly.

“Good. But for now… Let’s go home.”

"Can we assume... That's it for tonight? No more guests, no more trips?" she asked, entering their house.

"That trip was _your_ idea."

"And it paid off. You now know Vicki Vale is alive."

"Let's just... End the day." he said, picking Pingu up. "Stop biting my ankles, you twat, it's Bruce Wayne you're supposed to hate, not me!"

"He just wants attention." she said, heading to kitchen. "He probably learned that from us."

"Learned what?"

"Showing love through biting." she said with a smirk and he snickered, put the dog down and hugged her from behind.

"Let's end the day." he muttered, brushing her earlobe with his lips. "No more Mask, no more Louise. Alright? Let's worry about this stuff tomorrow."

"Yeah." she sighed, trying to come up with a plan to get close to Thomas Elliot without actually letting him into her life and without giving him false hopes. "I just want to go to bed. But first... I want tea. _And_ a cookie."

The cookie jar was empty and she didn't need to even look at Oswald to know it's his fault. He had zero self control when it came to food.

"What happens to all those sweet you devour?" she asked, turning around and crossing her arms.

Oswald - who was on the floor, rubbing Pingu's tummy - looked up.

"I work out." he reminded her. "Speaking of which... I'm going to need you to order a new punching bag."

"What, did you punch through this one already?" she asked with a sigh and he shrugged innocently.

(It was in the basement; he insisted on getting one to not fall out of shape. It's been a while since he punched _someone_ ; and the truth was, she liked watching him. Sometimes she wondered what is he thinking about during those times, when he gets so focused and slightly _angry._ Oh, he looked beautiful when he trained.)

"Fine." she said finally and his face lit up. "But I'll do it tomorrow. Let's pretend we're a normal couple for a moment. Let's pretend... You're not in hiding."

"We can run off to Mexico, you know." he said. "Or to Europe. Anywhere you want."

"But I don't _want_ to run away. I just wish we could have a normal life, that's all."

"Well, nothing's stopping you, you know. You can just say _we're done_ \- and I'll be out of your life."

"Yeah, I'm not going to do this. That's a shitty idea." she said firmly. "And it would solve absolutely zero problems, because you'd still be on the run."

"My god, Charlie, I was just kidding!"

"Your sense of humor is _terrible_."

"I am a terrible, _terrible_ person." he said with a smirk and she groaned. "But you love me anyway."

"There are no ifs and buts in the way I feel." she said, pouring hot water into her cup and watching it turn black as the tea was steeping. "Shit, that turned very sappy very quickly. How did we even _get_ to this point?"

"I said I need a new punching bag."

"Right. I think whoever is writing the script by which the world goes on had no idea what to do when they got to this part."

"That's _so_ fatalistic, I love it!" Oswald said with a smirk and got up.

They ended the day at the break of dawn; they wanted to finish what Louise interrupted with her phone call. Just a kiss, just a hand on her thigh, just her fingers in his hair. Just the two of them, on their small island among the crashing waves of Gotham - world’s most troubled city.

Gotham caught up to Charlie, ensnared her with its machinations and plots; but she didn’t mind. Her lover was a man on the run, eaten alive by resentment and anger; but she didn’t mind, not when he kissed her, not when he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, not when she fell asleep in his arms.

She didn’t mind. Love made everything sweeter.

 


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who the fuck wrote my life, Junji Ito?!”  
> “You’re spiraling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sex happens in this one, wink wonk.

“So. What now?”

It was Friday, few days after they found out Vicki Vale was, in fact, alive and so, so very tired; they were lying in bed, neither of them eager to get up. Oswald’s head was resting on her stomach and Pingu was curled up next to her; a blissful image, completely out of place considering the things they were mixed up in.

“What do you mean?” Oswald asked, not opening his eyes as she was playing with her hair.

“We have a long list of problems.” she reminded him. “I never was a criminal mastermind, I don’t know where to start. I need guidance.”

“Uh-uh.” he muttered, opening one eye. “Does it mean I’m in charge?”

“Looks like it.”

“That’s nice.” he sighed, rolling onto his stomach and resting his chin against her skin. “And poetic. Lady Arkham is dead, but her legacy lives on-”

“You said you want to come back without the burden of ideology.” she interrupted him and he shrugged.

“Because I do, but as far as people of Gotham are concerned… Me and my lady are one and the same. And that’s how it goes with soldiers following orders - they will never be free from ghosts of their leaders.”

“Let’s add philosophy to the long list of your talents.”

“Mmm.” he muttered, closing his eyes again and resting his cheek against her left breast, tightly wrapping his arms around her waist; she laughed.

“What are you doing?”

“World is hard.” he muttered. “Your bosom? Soft.”

She couldn’t argue with that; but they also couldn’t avoid the reality of their situation forever. He had a criminal empire to build - and she had a reclusive surgeon to charm. Building a criminal empire in Gotham wasn’t a difficult thing, considering the thrilling amount of low-level street thugs and abandoned resources waiting to be claimed; plus Penguin already _had_ a reputation. It was no secret that he’d eventually come back, even after the beating he got from the Bat - the tricky part was in actually accessing those resources and gathering them without good citizens of Gotham noticing.

“A good chunk of Falcone’s records never made it out of his inner circle. I think there might be enough goodies to kickstart my return.” Oswald claimed, glancing at a map of Gotham. “His people mostly skipped town, but I know some of _my_ friends are still around. And they stuck around for a reason.”

“That’s good.” she sighed, scrolling through Elliot’s - rather parsimonious - social media profiles. “You know what’s weird?”

“Everything?”

“That too, but I’m talking about details.” she sighed again. “You and Vicki dug out a lot of dirt on Gotham’s rich and beloved, right?”

“Correct.”

“There was something on almost everyone. And yet… There was _nothing_ on Sionis and the Elliots.”

“Sionis was the Black Mask.” Oswald pointed out. “He was good at covering his tracks.”

“And what about Elliots?”

“Maybe he was a _sentimental_ Black Mask.” Oswald said with a shrug. “Old friends, protective umbrella, yadda yadda. Love makes fools of us all. Oh!” he said, suddenly looking more alive. “Here’s a theory: Thomas Elliot is actually Roman’s bastard son, born from an affair between… What’s his mother’s name?”

“Uh… Maria.”

“Maria!” he said, snapping his fingers. “Even their _names_ sound good together. Maria and Roman, sitting in the tree, k-i-s-s-i-ng…”

Charlie snorted quietly, looking through scarce photos of Thomas Elliot; everywhere she looked - he was painted in ridiculously good light. He was charitable, hospitable, polite and well-educated; his interests included opera, art, philosophy and sociology. In her previous life, he would be an ideal prince charming; but she was wiser now. She knew that behind every beautiful facade there’s at least a splotch of ugliness; and she much more preferred people not ashamed of their own ugly bits.

“You want to hear _my_ theory?” she asked, putting her phone down; Oswald nodded.

“Hit me.”

“Elliot is a renowned surgeon, right? And Roman Sionis had been _paid_ for people who went missing and owed him something. Elliot _bought_ those people.” she said, counting the points down on her fingers. “He lives in a mansion outside of the city. It’s secluded, near to the river…”

“Organ trafficking.” Oswald guessed. “You know? This actually makes sense. It’s a bold theory… But it makes sense.”

“I once came across a town where people smuggled heroin in barrels of maple syrup. I think a father-son organ trafficking business wouldn’t be that much of a stretch.”

“Uh-uh.” Oswald nodded, looking at her lovingly. “It wouldn’t be.”

But for now, it was just a theory - even if Black Mask seemed to agree.

“Some Masks _did_ dabble in organ trafficking.” she stated. “Sionis, however… Seemed to have abandoned this practice.”

“So you think it’s a stretch?”

“No, not at all!” she said, waving her hand. “I think it’s a good theory, definitely worth a shot, especially since there are _no_ Mask records in regards to organ trafficking from the Sionis period. I can see him doing this on the side… It’s a shame I killed him so impulsively.” she added absentmindedly. “I should have waited, take a peek into his private life… But it’s all water over the dam now. It’s on you two now. Because…” she paused for a moment, turning her head in Charlie’s direction. “I’m assuming you’re on board?”

“I am.” Charlie said quickly, before Oswald said anything. “His mess is my mess, whether he wants it or not.”

“How sickeningly sweet.” Mask said mockingly, getting up. “Good luck then. Penguin. Do you still want that proof we talked about?”

“Absolutely.”

Mask threw Oswald a small, black flash drive.

“Bank records.” she said. “From Roman’s account. And… Some other stuff. However, if I were you… I’d use direct approach as a last resort. If I remember correctly… You’ve got nothing.” she said quietly. “You’re not _prepared_ for a direct approach.”

“I’m not going to strike another deal with you.” Oswald said firmly. “I know better now.”

“Oh, but Penguin!” Black Mask chuckled quietly. “Panta rhei! No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man… And I’m not the same Mask.” she added.

“No.” Oswald repeated, shaking his head. “No deal. I’ll manage.”

“Your loss.” Mask said with a careless shrug; and just before leaving their home - she stopped and glanced at them over her shoulder.

“Oh, and one more thing…”

“Yes?” Oswald asked impatiently. “What is it?”

“Do give Vicki my regards.”

She disappeared into the shadows outside before Oswald reached the door.

“How does she know about _this_?!” Charlie asked frantically.

“Do I look like I know?!” he replied angrily. “Bloody hell!”

He angrily punched the door frame and she winced.

“Careful.” she warned him. “Splinters are nasty.”

“I know!” he groaned, this time hitting the frame with the ball of his hand. “Fuck. Shit! Why did Vale have to make a deal with the fucking _Black Mask_?!” he asked angrily. “All I wanted was retribution for what happened to my family - and I _had_ it! But no, instead of cutting ties with her when I could I just blindly followed - and now I’m doing to _you_ what she did to _me_!” he blurted out, suddenly turning around to face her. “Who the fuck wrote my life, Junji Ito?!”

“You’re _spiraling_.” she said, accentuating the terrible pun and the corners of Oswald’s mouth twitched slightly.

“I’m going to the basement.” he eventually sighed. “Punch this one out.”

“Just remember to take a shower afterwards.”

“Uh-uh.”

***

Getting close to Thomas Elliot turned out to not be half as tricky as she thought it would be - the man seemed to actively seek out her company. She could see why, and not because she was vain - she simply knew her worth. She was well aware of her charms, and wasn’t above using them to get what she wanted from people naive enough to listen to her spells; and she put all of her charms to work.

Finding common language with him wasn’t a problem - she was, after all, a Harvard graduate with master’s in English literature and a daughter of intelligent, outspoken members of high society. She knew her way around more demanding conversations - and the truth is, she kind of enjoyed discussing philosophy with Elliot. He was a good listener, even if he seemed to have no sense of humor whatsoever; she didn’t mind. She used to be this way too.

The one thing bothering her about spending time with him was the way he looked at her when he thought she’s not looking. It was very familiar, and normally would be flattering; it was very similar to the way Oswald looked at her when they were alone and her body was singing for him or when his head was on her lap and their fingers were intertwined. It was similar - but there was some odd longing in this gaze, like he was looking at something he’ll never have, something out of his reach; which was weird, considering she was doing everything she could to let him know she _is_ within his reach.

“For a renowned surgeon, he is as smart as a brick.” she complained about it to Oswald. “Like a brick!”

“Well, to be honest, us men tend to be really, _really_ dumb.” he said with a shrug. “But do you feel like you’re making progress?”

“Oh, definitely. Actually he asked me out on a date.” she said, glancing at Oswald, curious of his reaction.

“That’s… Good.” he said cautiously. “Right?”

“Don’t you consider this cheating?”

“No?” he said, looking at her weirdly. “No, I don’t. Just because you’re going out on a date with him doesn’t mean you’re cheating - same way me running Wayne Enterprises didn’t suddenly turn me into a businessman. I was still a crook - but a _very_ well-dressed crook.”

“So you’re not even a bit jealous?”

“Charlie, you are confusing the hell out me.” he admitted. “And I’m a criminal mastermind. I _almost_ outsmarted Batman.”

His confusion looked and sounded sincere and she could see him trying to connect the dots in his head; finally she took pity on him.

“I was mostly joking.” she said softly. “Is… Everything alright?”

“No.” he admitted. “And yes, I _am_ a bit jealous. Someone gets to take you on dates in public - and it’s not me. And you know I love attention.” he added jokingly.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better… I _also_ wish that was you.” she admitted. “Thomas definitely is hiding something, and you know my bad history with people hiding their intentions.”

“Well, his name _is_ Thomas.” he said with a shrug. “In my book, that’s a cursed name.”

“Yes, I know. But enough about me, I’m managing. I’m running out of concealer, but… I’m managing. What’s eating _you_?”

“Business problems.” he finally admitted. “Someone has a vendetta against me - which is understandable, really. What I _don’t_ get… Is how and why does this person manage to buy out every single person I seek out. Every single one! As for now, I have two men - not counting you - no base, no arms and no idea who might be doing that.”

“Black Mask?” Charlie suggested. “She did offer you a deal, and you refused. Maybe she’s trying to force you into one.”

“Could be.” he muttered, rubbing his chin. “See, this Black Mask took over so recently there’s no telling what her MO is. It _could_ be her - but it might as well be _anyone_ in this blasted city. For all I know, it could be Bruce.”

“This… Kind of makes sense.” she said slowly. “You mentioned he’s working with Batman. Should I put my charms to work on him as well?”

“Yes!” he said with a relieved clap. “Yes, please, do that. In the meantime… I still have one more thing I can try. I can’t do it as _myself_ \- since he’s my sworn rival - but I _do_ have some… Alternate identities up my sleeve.”

“...is _Oswald Cobblepot_ even your real name?”

“Do I _look_ like anything _other_ than _Oswald_?”

“You kind of look like a Dick.”

“I love you too, love.”

***

Getting into Bruce’s good graces turned out to be tricky. He was friendly and polite and pleasant - but he was also secretive and reclusive. He generally avoided company, unless it was necessary; and it was obvious her natural charms aren’t working. Maybe she simply wasn’t his type - but no matter the reason, she couldn’t push too hard. She couldn’t afford anyone’s suspicions - and especially not those of people who could sink tons of money into investigating her.

She didn’t mind putting on a mask and hiding everything; Her gaze didn’t carry a promise, and her smile wasn’t an invitation to ask questions. She was kind, charming and funny; and it was enough for keeping people from asking questions. For keeping them from pushing any further.

She was more than fine with knowing Bruce Wayne just on the surface level - and he seemed honest. Genuine. Earnest. Not at all like a kind of person who’d even attempt to buy out half the independent criminal underground. She _could_ imagine him working with the Bat - but she couldn’t imagine him making shady deals, not with a face everyone knew.

Or maybe he was simply the bank; maybe it was the Bat who was making the deals. There was a high chance of Bruce Wayne being _involved_ \- but not _responsible_. She could tell that much just from looking at him; and she wasn’t going to bite off more than she could chew and try to solve the mystery of Batman’s identity. That could wait; for now she had to focus on Thomas Elliot.

Their date was… Pleasant - and she did her best to fake actually being into him the same way he was into her. He took her to the best restaurant in Gotham, he picked the finest wine for her and listened attentively to her every word; but she knew there’s something rotten hidden inside him.

“Now, I’ve been wondering…” he said eventually. “I’m throwing a dinner party for my closest friends soon, and maybe… Would you like to come?”

“Oh, absolutely!” she assured him with a smile. “I’d love to see your home.” she added suggestively, longingly thinking about her own home and her comfortable bed.

Her phone buzzed and Thomas nodded in its direction.

“Take it.” he said, which rubbed her the wrong way; why did he assume she needs his permission to read a _text_?

It was from Oswald.

 

**I’m onto something. I’ll be back in two days. Take care. Love you.  
** _be careful!! did u feed pingu?  
_ **...fuck.**

 

“I have to go.” she said with a theatrical sigh. “My dogsitter forgot about _feeding_ my dog.”

“Oh, you have a dog?” Thomas asked with a glimmer of interest in his eye. “What breed?”

“A shiba inu. He’s still young, but he’s so, so smart.” she said tenderly. “And stubborn! I’m not going to even _try_ to teach him to not get on the furniture.”

“Well, personally I think dog’s place is on the floor.” Thomas stated and she nearly rolled her eyes. “Do you need a lift home?”

“Oh, I’m not even tipsy.” she said almost instantly, dreading what could happen if _he_ drove her home and asked if he can come in; for now she decided to go by the old _the less is more_ rule. “Plus my home is _so_ not on the way. Don’t take a detour because of me, really.”

“As you wish.” he said politely. “I believe… See you at the party?”

“Yes.” she said, looking him in the eye.

All lights in their house were off, and Pingu’s bowl really was empty; he greeted her with mournful whining.

“I know, boy, I know.” she said apologetically, filling his bowl. “There.”

But even after eating Pingu still looked sad; and she realized this might be the first time he was separated from Oswald for longer than a few hours.

“Hey, buddy, it’s alright.” she said quietly, scratching him behind his ear. “He’ll be back.”

It was a weird night - first in a while she spent alone in bed. Well, not _alone_ \- Pingu was with her, curled up on Oswald’s pillow - but only that night she realized just how used she got to Oswald’s presence, how comforting it became.

She called him the next evening; but his phone was off.

“Congratulations!”, his voicemail said. “You reached the elusive criminal, Oswald Cobblepot. Leave the message after the beep. Tatty-bye!”

“Hey.” she said, feeling odd. “I’m alive. Nothing happened after the date, but he did invite me over for a dinner party. I… Can try to snoop around a bit. And I miss you. And so does our boy.” she added. “Be safe. I love you.”

He didn’t call or text back; but there was also nothing on the news about him, meaning he was probably safe from the police at least. _click._ The Scarecrow attacked again. _click_. The Joker set the orphanage on fire.

She sighed deeply, listening to the news. Even despite her involvement in Oswald’s business, she somehow managed to stay out of trouble - and she was grateful for it. Yes, her friend was being plagued by notes from the Joker - but Esme was very adamant about not wanting any help.

“Rocco and Bullock are on the case.” she stated. “There’s nothing you can do, Charlie. You already have one criminal in your life, there’s no need to add that clown to the list.”

“Can you at least tell me what does he _want_?”

“I would, if I knew.” Esme replied sadly. “But those notes are… Incoherent. Also his handwriting? Abhorrent. Worse than Falcone’s.”

It seemed like the only criminal in Gotham who _didn’t_ somehow find his way into her life was the Scarecrow; and she didn’t mind. For all she cared, things could stay that way for as long as possible.

Oswald came home at the break of dawn; she was asleep, but Pingu’s joyful barking and panting woke her up.

“Fkskjgfjdkgj.” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “What is it, boy?”

“Me, probably.” Oswald whispered and she gasped.

“You’re back!”

“And in one piece.” he added, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Though… I stink.”

“Yes, you do.” she agreed, already wrapping her arms around him. “You smell _terrible_.”

“Then how about letting me go so I can shower and change?”

“Mmm.” she muttered, not budging. “Okay.”

“Oh, come on.” he said, poking her between the ribs. “Let me go, you hellish octopus.”

“Fine, fine.” she muttered, finally letting him go and rubbing her eyes again. “Will you tell me everything once you’re clean?” she asked with a yawn; he snickered.

“No, because you’re going to fall asleep any minute now. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Noooo.” she muttered, yawning again. “I will not fall asleep.”

She fell back asleep as he was showering, and didn’t feel the kiss he placed on her shoulder; but she did smile when she woke up in the morning and he was _there_.

“So, what did you find out?” she asked over breakfast. “You seem to be in a good mood.”

“I’m not.” he said nonchalantly. “Truth is, I’m _incredibly_ pissed off.”

“Are you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically; he nodded vigorously.

“I am absolutely fucking _livid_.” he said calmly, buttering a piece of toast. “Except I got slightly better at managing my anger, instead of, you know, yelling.”

“Alright, so what are you so pissed off about?”

“My own blasted stupidity.” he stated. “I figured out who’s buying everyone out.”

“Well?” she asked breathlessly. “Who is it?”

“She goes by the name _Skua_.” he said, and she furrowed her brows; the word sounded vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t quite connect it with a meaning. “Ring any bell?”

“Yes and no.” she admitted. “I definitely _heard_ it somewhere before…”

“Skua birds often attack and eat penguin chicks.” Oswald said calmly, buttering another piece of toast. “Someone is very dedicated to sending me a very clear message.”

“Well, _who_ is it?”

“I’m not sure yet.” he admitted. “But I have a strong suspect. A _very_ likely one. But the good news is - I got to Kōunji.”

“Oswald, I need to remind you, I am not familiar with Gotham criminal underworld.” she said patiently. “I don’t know who Kōunji is, but I am _very_ glad you got to him.”

Oswald snickered and stole some oatmeal from her.

“He was Falcone’s main weapon supplier.” he eventually said. “ _And_ my rival - until I taught him to not fuck with me and get out of my turf. We’re… Not exactly _friends_ , but I tricked him. Now he’s selling to me.”

“Alright.” she nodded. “That makes sense. Now. Back to Skua. You mentioned a suspect?”

“Yes, and I’m pissed at the fact I didn’t figure it out _earlier_.” he said, rolling his eyes. “Skua birds tear penguin families apart, meaning this is probably a relative of someone I killed. The list isn’t too long.” he added. “Most people don’t even know skua birds _exists_. Nobody gives enough shit about them to pick them as their favorite animal. That was _deliberate_. And we’re looking at someone fluent in ways of the underworld, someone with plenty of money to sink into making my life shittier.”

“You have a lot of enemies.” Charlie said cautiously, but Oswald shook his head.

“Yes, but only one person fits all the criteria.” he declared. “And her name… Is Sofia Falcone.”

“Falcone had _a child_?”

“Yes!” Oswald said excitedly. “Me and Bruce briefly went to school with her, before everything went to hell in a handbasket and I got shipped off to England. I almost forgot she exists - but apparently she’s back in Gotham and the word is… She put out a prize for my head.”

“Well.” Charlie sighed. “I’m not sure why am I surprised. Black Mask, organ trafficking, Batman… Mafioso’s vengeful daughter sounds almost reasonable.”

“Gotham has its charm, doesn’t it?” Oswald asked carelessly. “But she has nothing on me. She doesn’t know where to look for me, she doesn’t know who works for me… She has the numbers, but I… I have finesse.”

She snorted quietly, rolling her eyes; but at least he got _something_.

“So.” he said eventually. “We know about my accomplishment. How about you? Apart from the voicemail stuff, that is.”

“I’m playing the waiting game.” she said with a shrug. “I’m going to give him blue balls and _then_ I’ll throw him a bone.”

“Well.” he said with a wink. “I didn’t know you like being dominant.”

“I have my moments.” she said, fluttering her lashes. “Especially in times of need… And Oswald, I truly, madly, deeply do _not_ want to actually have sex with him. I’d rather do it… The elegant way.”

“It’s fine by me.” he said; and she could swear she spotted a spark of relief in his eyes. “Anything else?”

“He was very interested in me having a dog.” she said, tapping at the surface of the table with her fingertips. “Oh, and… He kind of acts like I need his permission to read a text during dinner? I know it’s kind of rude, but… There was something in the way he _said it_.”

“No, no, I get it. “ Oswald muttered, thinking about something intensively. “Anything else?”

“He said he thinks dog’s place is on the floor.” she remembered and they both looked in the direction of Pingu; their dog was sitting on a chair, resting his head on the wooden surface of the table and wagged his tail as soon as it noticed they’re looking in his direction.

“Yeah.” Charlie said eventually as Oswald slid a piece of bacon in Pingu’s direction. “Want to hear my wild theory?”

“Always.” he said, shooting her a smile; she blew him a kiss.

“There are two things that define a person.” she eventually said. “One: whether they allow pets on their furniture. Two: the way they treat people like retail workers, or food delivery guys.”

“Gotcha.”

“And so far… Elliot lost a lot of his charm.” she admitted. “Sure, he’s smart and knows his Kant and knows how to pick a wine, but… _He thinks dogs should stay on the floor_.”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I did kill that one guy during a debate.” he reminded her. “And I’m pretty sure he was not a millionaire.”

“If my organ trafficking theory will turn out to be true, then… He’s still worse than you.” she said with a shrug, and after a moment gasped, covering her mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ.” she muttered. “I’m _terrible._ ”

Oswald laughed - and she realized she doesn’t care about her morality going downhill at the speed of light.

“It sort of feels good, knowing there’s someone out there who’s actually _worse_ than me.” he admitted. “And I swear to god, once _this_ is over… I’m going after Wayne again.”

“Need help?”

“You know I do.”

***

The evening of the dinner party at Thomas Elliot’s mansion in Sommerset - about a mile away from the Trigate Bridge. It was a secluded place; more secluded than Wayne Manor, which was a bit suspicious, considering Elliot’s reputation of a complete delight.

"Sounds like a good place for terrible things to happen." Oswald suggested, watching her as she was getting ready. "Rich asshole.”

“What, suddenly Bruce Wayne’s not the biggest ass in Gotham?” she asked innocently, buttoning up her dark blue blouse. Oswald scoffed.

"Love, an asteroid could hit Gotham and I'd still point to Bruce and yell _it's his fault!_ Of course he’s still the biggest ass in Gotham, he’s just… Not who I’m after as for today.”

"Mmmm." Charlie muttered, painting her lips slowly, carefully, looking Oswald in the eye in the mirror. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You look very good in blue." he added casually and she batted her lashes at him. "Is that your first social outing wearing something that's not black?"

"That's correct. I'm trying to score some points with him, let him know he's _special._ " she said, checking her purse. "Help me with my pearls?"

She brushed the hair away from the back of her neck and tilted her head slightly, as he clasped the string of pearls, gently brushing her skin with his fingertips.

"Leave my neck alone." she muttered and he snickered. "I'm serious! Leave it alone. I don't have time."

"Your neck is so sensitive, it's ridiculous." he said, taking his hand away. "But then again, so is your-"

"Or maybe you simply have magical touch." she interrupted him quickly; he was right, certain parts of her body _were_ remarkably sensitive to the touch. "Alright, I'm leaving. Wish me luck. Remember to feed Pingu."

"Have fun." he said quietly and kissed her as she turned around. "Be safe."

"Don't wait for me, I have no idea how long this might take." she said, walking down the stairs.

Oswald scoffed in response.

"Of _course_ I'll be waiting." he declared. "You know I love getting you out of those fancy clothes."

She shook her head and left, hoping she didn't overdo it with the perfume.

She arrived just on time - early enough to spend some time alone with Elliot, but not early enough to seem clingy or rude.

She was the first person to show up.

“Ah, darling.” Elliot said, as his silent butler let her in and lead her to the living room. "You're early."

"And I'm terribly sorry." she lied smoothly, looking around. "There was almost no traffic... I didn't expect this."

Wayne Manor interiors practically screamed _old money,_ with its warm colors and wood; Elliot preferred modern minimalism and cold colors.

(And frankly, she preferred Wayne Manor interiors.)

"Beautiful place." she said, trying to sound as genuine as possible. "Very secluded though. Why?"

"I value my privacy." Elliot said simply and she took a mental note of it.

"May I offer you some wine?" her host asked and she nodded.

(She wasn't going to get drunk or even tipsy. She wasn't going to let her guard down; plus she knew Oswald is going to be waiting for her. And he liked her sober and in control of her consent.)

Finally other people started showing up; and Thomas started to introduce her to them. Most of them she saw for the first time; she recognized two familiar faces and a bunch of names her mother had mentioned in her career.

(It seemed like she's one of very few people in the room who has nothing to do with medicine.)

The last person to show up was a very handsome man, few years older than her; he had dark circles under his eyes and she could've sworn she saw him somewhere.

"Ah, Victor!" Thomas said at his sight, embracing the man warmly. "I was sure you're not going to make it."

"Well, my visit in Switzerland was cut short." the man replied, running his fingers through his curly hair; he had dark, piercing eyes. "Nora had a breakdown."

Her jaw almost dropped when she realized she's looking at the husband of Nora Fries - one of the modern world's most renowned, most admired ballet dancers, whose career had been cut short by a sudden outburst of a rare, hard to treat illness.

"Charlotte, this is Victor Fries-"

"I know." she interrupted him, excitedly looking at Victor. "He's the husband of Nora Fries."

"And one of the world's most renowned experts on cryogenics." Victor said, visibly amused and she blushed ashamed. "But I don't mind being introduced as Nora's husband first. She is the light of my life and it always brings me great joy, realizing the world loves her as much as I do."

"My apologies, I'm just... A huge fan of Nora."

"You don't need to apologize." Victor assured her, taking her hand and brushing it with his lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name..."

"Charlie." she said, already deciding she likes this man. "Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen."

"My goodness! Daughter of Eleanor?"

"Yes. Did you know my mother well?"

"No." he said sadly. "And I regret not getting to know her when I still had a chance. An inspiring woman. And I am terribly sorry for your loss. The world became a bleaker place, with your parents gone."

His condolences sounded genuine and she felt a sudden lump in her throat.

Charlie was seated right next to Thomas, as if he wanted to show her off to the other guests; and she made sure she made a great first impression. She was attentive, polite, laughed at little jokes and didn't as much as blink or wince when his guests vocally criticized Oswald Cobblepot and small people who voiced their support for his failed cause.

(Also she knew damn well she looks amazing. Her makeup was making her eyes even bigger than usual; and she had mastered the innocent look, the oldest trick in the book.)

Victor Fries was seated right next to her, shielding her from the nearest stranger; a quiet man, who was watching her same way Oswald would look at her between kisses. But in Oswald's case it made her feel warm and safe; in this man's case it made her simply feel uncomfortable.

(He was undressing her with his eyes. She didn't appreciate it.)

"So, how is your wife doing?" she asked finally, turning to Victor, who was critically staring at the contents of his plate.

(The food was... Fancy. It was exactly like the stuff she was used to back in New York - highest quality, exotic ingredients, elegant combinations, rich flavors. She desperately wanted some french fries.)

"She's doing quite well, actually." he said, turning his attention to her. "She's getting stronger... It seems like her body is finally regenerating."

"I hope the world will see her dance again, one day." she said softly and Victor smiled in response. "Can you give her my regards?"

"Oh, I was going to." he assured her earnestly. "She loves hearing about how people still remember her and her grace. It keeps her going."

(Nora was infinitely graceful and Charlie saw her live once, in _Daughter of the Snows_ ; she remembered the indescribable grace of her fingers and wrists and the whirls of her light blue costume. It was mesmerizing to watch; and after the performance, Nora's smile was overjoyed, ecstatic even, as she took one last bow.)

After the party was over - she didn't dare to sneak out and take a look around Elliot's mansion; she decide a better occasion will surely present itself soon - Thomas offered her one last glass of wine.

"I have to decline." she said apologetically. "But I'm driving. And I have a dog waiting for me. It would break my heart to make him wait forever."

"How about a cup of tea then?" Thomas suggested warmly and she accepted, staying behind as the other guests were leaving and the staff was cleaning up the dining room.

Somewhere from inside the house she could hear faint barking.

“Oh! Do I hear your dog?” she asked, wondering what kind of pet does he keep; Thomas smiled and nodded.

“Yes, but she’s… No exactly feeling well recently.” he said apologetically. “So I’m keeping her away from people for now.”

“Well, at least tell me something about her.”

“Her name’s Ella. And she’s a beautiful, strong tosa.” he said lovingly, in a tone one should absolutely never speak about a _dog_ ; it was tone she was using when she was talking about Oswald with people from Maroni’s inner circle. "Did you enjoy the evening?" Thomas asked suddenly, and she nodded.

"Very." she said; it wasn't exactly a lie. She _did_ meet Victor Fries, who turned out to be a delight; and thanks to the location of her seat, nobody really bothered her in any way. "Brings back some memories." she added with a smile. "Back in New York, I used to spend quite a lot of time on dinner parties."

"But then your life changed drastically, and now you're in Gotham."

"Yeah." she said quietly. "But I've got nothing to complain about. Gotham... Is treating me well."

"I used to know your mother." he said suddenly and she blinked a few times. "Did she ever mention me?"

"My mother mentioned a lot of people." she replied quietly, thinking about Eleanor's intelligent eyes and gentle hands. "But I can imagine she thought highly of you. She always valued people good at their craft."

"Craft." he repeated absentmindedly. "Is this what medicine is? Just a craft?"

"Everything's a craft. Everything can be learned and practiced and mastered."

"Even love?" he asked and she blinked, hoping that was the first joke she ever heard him say.

"Yes." she said, thinking about her first failure at love and how she somehow didn't _notice_ Oswald's feelings, despite seeing them clearly now. "Relationships especially need practice... And luck." she added. "Not every relationship's meant to be forever."

( _because sometimes there's no actual relationship to begin with._ )

They talked some more; about Bruce Wayne - there was a weird spark in his eye when he mentioned the young heir, something she couldn't quite name - about his work and about her family. Not a word about anything pertaining to Roman Sionis; but even if he _was_ involved - and she had a feeling that's the case - he probably didn't trust her enough to let her on this little secret. But no worries; she knew she can make him trust her, open up, show her his dirty little secrets.

(It almost felt like he _wants_ to open up. All he needed was a push in good direction, at the right moment.)

Eventually she decided it's time for her to go; he visibly _didn't_ want her to, but that was part of the game, leaving the other side wanting more. She was glad for her modest, elegant clothes, leaving everything to imagination, only the faintest outline of her bralette visible under the clothing and only in the right light.

(There was right light in her home, where Oswald was waiting.)

"I believe I should be going home." she said finally, setting the empty teacup down. "It's been a delightful evening and I hope we'll get to repeat it at some point."

"Oh, I hope so as well." he assured her, looking at her absentmindedly. "See you soon?"

"I hope so!" she lied with a bright smile on her face, took her purse and saw herself out, sighing with relief in cool air. It was a quiet night, and in the distance she saw Gotham lights - and Wayne Tower was, naturally, the brightest, most visible point of the skyline.

(It was built on a land Thomas wayne stole from Oswald's family; and he very briefly reclaimed it. She giggled to herself, thinking about his short lived stint as a CEO. She sometimes entertained herself with thinking about what would happen if she came back to Gotham sooner; she could imagine herself being his secretary, completely ignoring all the phonecalls and appointments.)

One last time she glanced at the city, entered her car and went home, glancing at the Elliot Manor reflection in her rear window a few times.

Oswald was asleep on the couch in the living room and he was snoring and Pingu was curled up on his stomach. They only woke up few minutes after she entered the room; she spent those few minutes leaning against the doorframe, watching them; they looked so calm. So at peace.

But eventually Pingu realized and woke up, his movements waking Oswald up as well.

"What?" he muttered, looking around the room; his face lit up as he saw Charlie. "Oh, hello there!"

He yawned and she laughed; she loved his bed head.

"That was... An evening." she said, sitting down next to him. "I can't say if it was good or bad, really."

"Well, my was definitely not terrible." he yawned again. "Just me, our yappy boy and the news."

"Well, Gotham is not on fire, so I assume nothing big had happened."

"Apparently Batman almost got the Joker, but he got away. Other than that... Nothing. And on your side?"

"Well, I think I'm on the right path." she said carefully. "Elliot... Gives off a weird vibe. I'm going to play dumb for a while, see if that loosens him up."

“Mmm. What do you mean by _weird_?”

“The way he talks about his dog, for example. Or maybe it's just people he surrounds himself with."

She cringed slightly as she remembered the quiet man sitting next to Victor. Oswald instantly got more serious.

"Did someone try something?" he asked quietly and she only sighed and put her head on his shoulder.

"No." she said finally. "But there is a... Potential. Though I should be used to men staring at this point..."

"Mmm." he muttered, kissing her temple. "Do let me know if someone tries something. I'll hunt him down and cut him."

"I also met Victor Fries." she muttered quietly and Oswald sighed. "What?"

"Victor is an old friend of mine." he said reluctantly and Charlie's jaw dropped. "We used to be the best of friends... Me, Nora and him. I didn't realize he's in Gotham."

"He seems nice. Really, genuinely nice."

"Yeah, that's Victor for you. All charm - and no dark secrets." he said quietly, almost sadly. "How is he?"

"He looked... Tired. But happy. He talked about Nora a lot."

"Yes, she's the love of his life... Nora always brings out the best in people." he said suddenly. "She saved me from alcoholism once. She's a... Remarkable woman. Such a shame what happened to her..."

"Well, Victor says she's slowly getting better."

"Did he mention me?" Oswald asked suddenly. "At all?"

"Barely anyone mentioned you at all." she said quietly and he sighed. "And if they did... Well. Take a wild guess."

"So he didn't." Oswald said absentmindedly, wrapping his arm around her. "Oh well. Not every friendship's meant to last, I suppose."

"Do you want me to tell him about you next time I see him?"

"No, no. Let's not bother good doctor Fries."

He unbuttoned the top button of her blouse absentmindedly. And the second one. And third.

"But I wasn't waiting for you to talk about friends breaking my heart." he whispered finally and she turned her head to look at him. "Alright? So let's not talk."

"You can tell me everything, Oswald." she whispered, as he unzipped her skirt. "You know this, right?"

"Of course I do." he said, getting up and pulling her behind; her skirt fell to the ground. "And I appreciate it, but... I don't want to talk about it."

"Oswald..."

"Please." he said in an exasperated tone and she gave up and gave in to his kisses and hands and skin.

(He was so, _so_ gentle that night; almost like he knew about that weird tingling feeling Elliot's dinner party left on her skin.)

Victor and Nora Fries had no place in their bedroom; that place was only for them.

***

Her birthday was slowly approaching - her first birthday in Gotham, in her new home, in her new life.

Oswald seemed to be… Aware.

"How do you feel about bondage, Charlie?" Oswald asked very seriously one day and her face turned red.

(He did tie her hands up - once. And it was nice.)

"Believe it or not, but I never tried it properly." she said instead. "But I like the idea. I... Was sure you figured it out."

"I did, but I wanted to make sure. So... Is that a strong yes?"

"A _very_ strong yes." she stated.

"Perfect." he said softly. "I want your first birthday with me to be memorable, Charlie. In a good way."

"Well, you know what I like." she said playfully. "So surprise me."

"I will." he said very seriously. "I have to... Buy a few things."

“...on a black market?”

“Most likely.” he said with a shrug. “I know of an art shop ran by a friend of a friend in the Slavic Quarter, but something tells me going shopping in broad daylight might not be the best idea, even in that part of town.”

“Oh my gosh, did you develop common sense?”

“A what now?”

She laughed it off and kissed the scar on his nose, her favorite scar on his; it gave his face character.

But before the day of her birthday - Oswald had an audience with the queen. Under Crane’s care and Louise’s watchful eye, Vicki Vale got better - not a lot better, but allegedly she no longer looked like a walking skeleton. And she wanted to talk.

“She wants to talk to your loverboy.” Louise told her hesitantly over the phone. “But I guess you two come as a joint package of sorts.”

“Kind of, yeah.” Charlie sighed. “We’ll figure this out, but for now… How are you holding up?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Lou. Your ex-girlfriend - who is also wanted for domestic terrorism and murder - is crashing on your couch. And you’re the district attorney now.” she said firmly. “And also my friend who once talked sense into me. So… How are you?”

“I don’t know.” Louise admitted. “I really, genuinely don’t know. Between this, and having a moment with Wayne I was sure I’m ready to move on, but… But…”

Her voice began to break.

“This is the weirdest fucking situation in my life.” she eventually said. “I think I’m going to hit Crane up for some counseling. I… Don’t even know where to _start_.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Charlie said softly. “You know I have your back, right?”

“Even if it’d mean transporting her onto _your_ couch?”

“I mean, as long as she’s willing to be a witness to my sex life…”

“...I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst enemy.”

So an evening came, when Oswald and Charlie made their way to Louise’s apartment, where Vicki Vale was hiding.

“It feels so… Surreal.” Oswald admitted on their way there. “I finally accepted the fact she’s _gone_ , I moved on… And then bam! There she is, not at all dead.”

“Were you two close?”

“Closer than she’d admit, less close than I thought we were.” he sighed. “It’s… Complicated. See - I don’t think any of us was in the right place to be close to _anyone_. She reached her breaking point, I found out what really happened to my family… What we needed was therapy, what we got was each other. Cue plenty of bad decisions.” he added bitterly. “Lots and lots of them.”

“You seem to be getting better. I mean, it’s been a while, and so far… You didn’t terrorize anyone.”

“...yet.” he added with a shrug. “Better? Eh, I’m still awful, morality-wise. But I definitely learned my lesson. I know better now.”

The ex-journalist seemed to be getting better, Charlie decided; she looked more lively and no longer looked like a skeleton. Her scars were healing, and her hair looked healthy again.

“Vicki.” Oswald said, right after entering the room. “I’ve been thinking-”

But she interrupted him.

“You think a lot, and you talk a lot.” she said tiredly. “And I will listen to you, in a few minutes. But first _I_ want to tell you something.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Charlie asked awkwardly; but Vale shook her head.

“You don’t have to, I don’t mind your presence. Penguin trusts you, and he’s… A decent judge of character.”

“Which probably doesn’t say anything good about your moral code.” Louise muttered behind her.

So Charlie stayed in the room, as Vicki was explaining how is she even _alive_ in the first place. Louise didn’t seem shocked, most likely having heard the story before; it wasn’t too long, because there were gaping holes in her memories. She remembered Batman unmasking himself; but she couldn't remember his _face_. She remembered a man finding her; but all she could remember later was the Scarecrow.

" _Scarecrow_ found you?" Oswald asked. "You mean... That man who's been terrorizing houses of horrors and cemeteries?"

"He nursed me back to health." Vicki said calmly and Charlie furrowed her brows. "Somewhere. He has a lab... And he's working on something."

She rubbed her forearm and Charlie finally realized something about her scars; they came from needles.

"And I was his guinea pig." Vicki added finally, her voice cracking slightly. "Ironic, isn't it?"

"What is he working on?" Oswald asked quietly and Vicki shook her head.

"I don't know for sure, but... I think he's working with our toxine. I saw some samples... God knows how did he get his hands on them."

"Yeah, this is actually a great question." Louise muttered, furrowing her brows. "I think... Yeah. There's been an issue with the evidence going missing recently." she said finally, in a normal tone of voice. "Such as some samples of this toxin police had recovered. Nobody checked it out officially, so it was probably stolen... Either by him or by an associate."

"Well, now you know he might have friends on the force." Oswald said cheerfully. "Delightful!"

"I'll look into it. Or I'll have Bullock look into it. Or... Someone from the Scarecrow task force. Yeah. There's a separate task force for this dude."

Oswald and Vicki wanted to talk in private, so Charlie and Louise left them and went to Lou’s living room instead.

“She’s been stealing my shampoo.” Louise said eventually and Charlie briefly glanced at her. “Expensive stuff.”

“She looks better physically, but… Is she better mentally?” Charlie asked and Louise scoffed.

“I don’t know.” she said finally. “But sometimes… She acts just the way she used to. Sometimes she smiles the same way, or laughs. Sometimes I think… The old Vicki is still there.”

“But what about the new Vicki?”

“It’s gonna take me some time to get used to her, but I’ll manage.” Louise replied, sitting down on a couch. “My god, Charlie, what is wrong with us?”

“It’s not our fault we love murderers. I’d suggest we can try and fix them, but… Do we want to?”

“Oh, a trick question.” Lou said with a smirk. “How’s your murderer treating you?”

“Way better than you’d expect from a… You know, when I think about it Oswald _does_ sound like a comic supervillain. But… He’s good. I love him. And he hadn’t murdered anyone so far.”

“Yet.” Louise said and Charlie sighed.

“As long as nobody gives him a reason…”

“The debate guy never gave him a reason to pull the trigger.” Louise pointed out and Charlie looked away. “But it’s… Well, it’s not _okay_ , but you know what I mean. Vicki also has a fair share of blood on her hands… But one’s heart wants what it wants.”

“I really should ask Bullock for advice.” Charlie muttered and Louise sighed. “He’s been with Fish for what, a decade? I’m sure he can give us some advice what to expect when in relationship with a criminal.”

“Fish was never a _wanted_ criminal.” Louise pointed out. “She never had to hide in his shitty, shitty flat. God, Bullock is a walking, breathing cliche. Shitty flat, doesn’t shave, is probably an alcoholic… Though I’m having problems deciding whether he’s a stereotypical hardboiled detective or a divorced dad. Or both. Hardboiled divorced dad detective? DADTECTIVE.” she said, her eyes wide open and Charlie laughed.

“Well, now _that’s_ the Louise I know and love. Though… We should get him a coffee mug. WORLD’S BEST DADTECTIVE.” she said and Louise giggled and gasped.

“I forgot!” she said; she got up, walked up to a near cabinet and opened a top drawer. “Speaking of Bullock… He asked me to give you this.”

She handed Charlie a plain, cardboard box.

“I know what’s inside.” she said, before Charlie opened it. “Anyone younger than him got one. It’s like a… Baptism of sorts. You get one… You’re in.”

Inside was a coffee mug with words WORLD’S BEST DAUGHTER printed on it.

“He gives them to everyone?” Charlie asked amused, turning the mug in her hands.

“Yeah, he started after Misty called him _old man_ once. And then Wilson’s tongue slipped and he said _dad_ instead of _sir_ and Bullock’s honorary fatherhood was confirmed. Even Oswald got one.”  
“I never saw it anywhere.”

“He keeps it hidden. My guess is… It means more to him than he’d like to admit. After all… He’s fatherless. And Salvatore’s hardly a father figure to anyone.”

“Oswald’s happy little family.” Charlie said with a sigh, setting her mug down; just looking at it gave her a warm, pleasant feeling. “Of criminals and accomplices.”

“Birds of a feather.” Louise said with a shrug and Charlie nodded quietly. “So, now that we’ve moved onto more pleasant subjects… Your birthday’s coming up.”

“So I’ve heard.” Charlie said cautiously, and Louise scoffed.

“Okay, cards on the table.” she eventually said. “You and Thomas Elliot. What is this all about?”

“What does it have to do with my birthday?!”

“We’re planning a surprise party for you, and we don’t know if he should be invited.” Louise said impatiently. “Come on. What’s going on?”

Charlie looked at Louise; her friend was staring at her expectantly. Should she be honest? Should she involved Louise in Oswald’s dealings with the Black Mask? After all, if it wasn’t for him she’d probably never try to actually get close to Elliot.

“I need some official paramour.” she eventually said. “I’m a young, attractive woman, I _need_ to have a romance with someone and desperately do _not_ want to be seen as Salvatore’s mistress. And it had to be a man.” she added. “You know. Otherwise I’d be seen _hanging out with my best friend_ , or some other shit.”

Louise snorted and giggled and Charlie smiled, hiding her guilt. She felt bad about lying to Louise of all people; but she felt like this might be a better option than accidentally dragging her into Penguin’s unfinished business with the Black Mask.

***

On her birthday Oswald woke up before her, which was a rare occurrence. She was half-awake by the time he sneaked out of bed; and she could hear him downstairs, but she was too sleepy to move or call out and eventually fell back asleep, stealing his - still warm - pillow.

Eventually, he did wake her up, in the most cliche way possible - by making breakfast and carrying it upstairs, for the first time.

(Usually he’d use promises of food to lure her out of bed.)

“Rise and shine!” he said cheerfully, as she yawned, feeling groggy from oversleeping.

“Mmm.” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “How are you so… Peppy? It usually takes a pot of coffee and a handjob to wake you up.”

He grinned, carefully setting the tray on the bed.

“I drank two pots of coffee.” he said cheerfully and she squinted, unable to decide if he’s joking - she knew he’s capable of doing just that. “Also, it’s your birthday. I thought this might be a nice way to start the day, no?”

“Aw, all this effort just because I’m one year older?” she asked with a smile, as if _she_ didn’t sink an enormous amount of money into rebuilding the last thing his family built as his birthday gift. “Touching.”

“There’s not a lot I can do while in hiding, you know. I’d normally challenge someone to a duel, or maybe rob a bank… But for now, a simple breakfast must do.” he said with a playful smile.

Her birthday plans looked bearable - she knew there’s going to be a “surprise” gathering at the Waterfront; she didn’t mind having a normal evening, like the ones back in New York. The only downside was the fact her favorite person couldn’t be there - due to the guest list including people from outside the inner circle.

“Ah, I’ll make it up to you.” Oswald assured her with a wink. “It’ll be… Memorable.”

But there was still plenty of time before evening - and she intended to actually _enjoy_ the day, rather than fixate on the fact Oswald can’t accompany her anywhere. It would be unhealthy if he did; no two people are meant to be together at all times.

But eventually - the time had come.

“I wish you could be there.” Charlie muttered, trying to force herself to get up and get dressed and get in the car. “Come with me… You can wear some disguise.”

Oswald snickered in response and shook his head.

“I’d love to, but that would be too risky. If it wasn’t for Bruce Wayne being invited… I’d do it. I’d shave, dye my hair…”

“Don’t shave!” she protested, brushing his chin. “That would be a tragedy. I’d actually be in mourning.”

“Mmmm, noted.” he said very seriously. “Now come on. Get dressed. Do you have some panties you’re not particularly fond of?”

“I have five pairs of identical black ones, I guess.” she said hesitantly. “Why?”

“Because I have a very sharp knife and I’m going to use it tonight.” he said nonchalantly. “Unless, of course…”

“Just as long as you don’t cut _me_.” she said, feeling a very enjoyable shiver run down her spine. “I don’t mind some blood in play, but… Not like this.”

“I don’t need to cut you to make you realize blades are dangerous.” he said with a wink. “Come on. Get dressed. I have some work to do.”

As she left the bathroom in nothing but her underwear, he stopped her before she opening her closet.

“I have some work to do.” he repeated, holding a long piece of rope.

“Shibari?” she guessed and he nodded. “Huh. I’ve been meaning to try this stuff out for… Years.”

“Well, now’s a good time.” he said, not moving. “Do you want me to put it on?”

“Yes.” she said instantly and he smirked. “You know, Oswald…”

“Mmmm?” he muttered, already wrapping the rope around her hips. “Yes?”

(He was looking calm and collected, his fingers easily tying knots and loops. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.)

“Yes?” he repeated, briefly looking up. “What is it?”

But she couldn’t find the right words for _I’m very glad you finally figured out I would love you to tie me up_ so instead she simply blew him a kiss. He smiled and returned to his masterpiece.

“Alright.” he said eventually, stepping back. “That should do the trick. Try making a few steps…”

She did and gasped quietly, thanks to the strategically placed knots. Oswald nodded with satisfaction.

“Sit down.” he commanded and she obeyed; she was starting to get into it.

(The rope was rubbing her skin slightly, and she had a feeling the pressure is going to become distracting soon.)

“Not too tight? Good.” he said with satisfaction and gently patted her on her right shoulder. "Now... Get dressed. Go out. Try to have fun. And I'll sit here and wallow in my misery, caused by the fact it can't be me making you smile tonight."

"It wasn't my idea." she said defensively, putting a dress on. "I-"

"I was mostly joking." he interrupted her softly. "There will be time when we won't have to hide. But as for tonight... I'm glad you're keeping your mask on."

She gave him one last kiss and left; walking down the stairs suddenly became a very absorbing task.

Thanks to the piece of rope, tied securely under her clothes the evening – though relatively short – felt like a fucking infinity. She had no idea how Oswald kept the knot from moving away, but he somehow did – and after those few hours she felt like the first thing she's going to to after finally getting home will be heading to bedroom, locking the door and _finally_ relieving some of this warm tension.

(Oh, naturally she was well aware it's not going to be so simple. She had a general, vague idea of what to expect – she told him to keep the details to himself, as a surprise, but he warned her it's going to be a long night for her. A night to remember.)

And she kept the mask on and nobody guessed anything; she was as charming as usual, warmly thanking everyone for the lovely surprise and the flowers and the expensive chocolates and oddly poetic wishes and so on, as high society birthday usually go.

Naturally, Salvatore was there, accompanied by Jacques and Eddie; she felt odd around him, with a piece of rope under her dress.

Near the end her phone buzzed.

 

**Holding up?**

_barely,_ she typed in response, squirming slightly

**Well, we can always do the rest another day...**

_that's not what i meant!!_

**Oh, good. Don't try anything though.**

 

(She wished she could flip him off. The thought of excusing herself for a long while and taking care of her small problem did cross her mind more than once; but she was a bit surprised to see him warn her against it so openly. It did leave her with a pleasant feeling of excitement.)

Apart from the night that followed, two things imprinted themselves in her memory clearly.

The first one was small, and made her feel something weird deep in her stomach, almost like shame, almost like guilt.

"Alfred sends his regards." Wayne told her and she nodded; she met Wayne's butler once or twice. He looked like a trustworthy man; a man like Alfred Pennyworth wouldn't raise a bad person, she could say that much. "He also asked me to give you... This."

He handed her a small box and she raised her brows.

"Jasmine tea." Wayne explained. "He recalls you enjoyed it... And he decided to share."

"Oh, this is lovely." she said with a genuine smile; she _did_ love that tea. "But he's still not willing to give me the name of the brand, is he?"

"Absolutely not." Wayne said with a smile. "Even _I_ don't know it... And I'm the one who's _paying._ "

It was a small, insignificant gesture - but both Alfred and Bruce seemed to be good people, and she was lying to their faces, conspiring with people who nearly destroyed them. She was in love with one of those people, and her friend seemed to love the other one; but it still made her feel absolutely fucking awful.

The second thing seemed to be way more significant.

“Charlie.” Thomas said softly, putting his hand on her shoulder. “A word?”

“Naturally.” she said with her most charming smile.

When they were alone, he handed her a plain envelope; she turned it in her fingers a few times, before looking up at him.

“Open it at home.” he asked, looking her in the eye. “Alright? And… Not a word to anyone. Hush, hush.” he hummed, walking away; and she stayed behind, feeling puzzled and intrigued.

Eventually, it was time for her to go home - and she was _overjoyed_ to do so.

(Turned out her euphoria was visible.)

"Gee, was it really so bad?" Misty asked mockingly.

"No!" Charlie assured her hastily. "But... I really want a bath."

"A bath." Misty repeated, rather skeptically. "Uh-uh. Sure."

"Can I just go home? You know there's someone waiting for me."

"Oh, let the girl go!" Fish called out from the bar. "Charlie, be a darling, give him my most sincere regards and tell him I will personally frame him for murder if he won't move his ass here eventually."

"Thanks, Fish!"

And just like that - she was on her way home, feeling more giddy than she probably should.

He greeted her with his arms wide open and a devilish smile on his face.

"Want a cup of tea?" he asked.

"No, but I could use a kiss." she replied, trying to keep cool and to not lose her balance while taking her shoes off.

"I was just joking." he finally said, wrapping his arm around her waist and gently pulling her towards the stairs. "I'm not _that_ much of an asshole."

"You can prove it by carrying me." she said half-jokingly, the perspective of this short last walk with that damn knot between her legs sending shivers down her spine.

Oswald, naturally, refused.

"I _do_ love watching you squirm." he said nonchalantly, letting her go, going up a few steps and then turning around to look at her. "Come on, Charlie."

(She was very red and very hot once she reached the final step and he only snickered and _finally_ lift her up, sparing her the last few meters.)

First thing he did was getting rid of the rope under her dress. He could just untie it, as she pointed out; but instead he used a knife, slowly, carefully tracing her skin with a sharp blade, giving her goosebumps.

"Please don't cut my clothes up." she muttered, sighing with relief as Oswald's rope handiwork left the picture.

"Your wish is my command... For now." he said, smirking as he unzipped her dress and unhooked her bra. "Raise your hands... Voila."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked, pointing at her panties and he winked at her and shook his head solemnly.

"Absolutely not." he assured her, getting up. "Now close your eyes. I have some work to do."

Obediently, she closed her eyes and let him do his magic with ropes and her body; one week earlier he promised her he'll find something durable, but not rough. "I'm not too fond of pain coming from sore skin." he told her, as they were sitting in a living room. "Plus... Those bruises are hard to hide. And we do have to hide, after all."

(She kind of enjoyed the thought of showing up to a fancy dinner party with her skin visibly bruised by rough ropes, but she kept it to herself.)

Even with her eyes closed, she liked the position he's getting her in; her wrists tied up at the small of her back, slightly suspended by piece of rope going around her chest and her arms.

"Not too tight?" he asked, tying a final knot.

"It's alright." she said, her eyes still closed.

"Good. We're halfway done. Lie on your back."

"Hey, Oswald?" she asked, as he was bending her knees and wrapping her legs with rope.

"Mmm?"

"What color of rope are you using?"

"Red. Like your hair." he replied calmly, moving to the other leg.

Finally he was done.

"Can you get out?"

She experimentally tried to wiggle out of her bondage - but to no avail.

"Perfect." he said with satisfaction, getting her up so she was kneeling with her legs spread slightly. "Open your eyes."

She could see their reflection in a mirror; herself kneeling on the bed, completely at his mercy and himself sitting next to her, his arm wrapped around her, his hand on her shoulder.

"Now." he said eventually, gently rubbing her other shoulder with his scruffy chin. "Shall we?"

Instead of responding, she turned her head, trying to kiss him; but he moved away, gently brushing the back of her neck with his fingertips.

"It looks like I need to teach you some more patience." he said quietly, reaching for a box she hadn't noticed earlier; black and elegant, with no words or pictures on it. "Good thing I'm always prepared."

Very soon she found out what he meant: he bought her an elegant, remotely controlled bullet vibrator, very powerful, very precise and very, _very_ frustrating when in right - or wrong - hands.

(It'd also explain why he insisted on leaving her panties on; the sense of thin fabric being between her and a much desired release was enough to drive her crazy.)

"You asshole." she muttered, as he attached the small bullet to the fabric, letting it buzz. "At least use a higher setting."

"What, did I break you already?" he asked mockingly. "You know the rules, Charlie."

She closed her eyes and whined, trying to not focus on the feeling between her legs - too strong to be ignored, to weak to actually bring any release.

(And the fact she was already desperate after hours of slight, tantalizing pressure on that exact spot wasn't helping.)

She let herself get lost in the sensation of his hands and lips on her skin, his tongue making a slow circle around her nipple, the other one under his thumb, his other hand on her abdomen.

"Lower..." she moaned out, her eyes still closed, and he only laughed in response.

"Are you sure, Charlie?" he asked, moving his hand a bit lower and slightly pressing the bullet down for a second, making her gasp and arch her back instinctively.

"Keep it!" she asked, that one word almost escaping her lips; but she kept it inside, for now.

(He didn't oblige. She knew he wouldn't.)

"When I get out of this..." she said instead, her voice cracking, pausing to catch a breath, trying to keep the moans inside "I'm going to kill you."

"Oh, but who said anything about getting out of it?" he purred in response, brushing the inside of her thigh with his fingertips. "Maybe I'm going to keep you like this forever, huh?"

"You wouldn't." she muttered back, his fingers creeping up her fabric-covered mound again. "You like my nails on your back too much."

"Something tells me you're going to make me bleed tonight, love."

He eventually did switch the bullet to a higher setting - at the cost of her attention. He wouldn't let her focus on buzzing sensation between her legs, he wouldn't let her just close her eyes and give in.

"Don't zone out." he whispered and she barely heard him, too focused on the sensation of ice cube sliding across her skin, circling her - now even more sensitive than usual - nipples. "You here?"

"Yes!" she panted out, writhing helplessly and hopelessly.

"Do you want me to stop? We can stop, if it's too much."

She looked at him with her eyes half-closed, her vision slightly blurry, her lips parted in a half-moan half-whimper and shook her head.

"You are beautiful." he said, sliding the cube down, down, _down_ , until it touched the hem of her panties; he then took it away and she was left with droplets of piercing cold on her skin, turning her attention from her center. "I wish you could see yourself."

"I don't want to see myself." she said, slowly, as the words were ridiculously hard to use.

"And what _do_ you want?"

"More." she moaned out and he kissed her with a smirk, reaching for the abandoned knife.

"Remember what I told you earlier?" he said, playing with it lazily. "Before you left?"

Spine of the blade rested against her belly and he dragged it slowly, looking her in the eye.

"It's _very_ sharp." he assured her in a very casual tone of voice, turning it and slowly dragging the point across her skin; almost no pressure, just to make her feel it. "Hey. Are you breathing?"

(She might have stopped breathing for a moment.)

"Yeah." she muttered. "Didn't you mention cutting my underwear tonight?"

"Oh, I did!" he said calmly, sliding the blade across her thigh and through the leg hole. "Snap." he added, cutting through the black fabric and repeating the process on the other side.

He turned the vibe off and put it aside, getting rid of her cut up underwear as well.

"Mmmm." he muttered as she breathed heavily, his eyes slightly squinted. "Where did I put this thing..."

He got up from the bed and started looking for something, leaving her behind; she enjoyed the helplessness. She knew he's going to stop if she tells him to - but she wasn't going to.

(If he really wanted to make her beg, he'd have to try a little harder than this.)

"Ah!" he said finally. "Now... Ah, fuck, I forgot what art-related pun I was going to use." he said suddenly and she laughed. "But anyway. The Penguin now has a reputation of an aspiring artist. Or a deviant. Or both. I found a black market dealer dealing in art supplies made of the finest, rarest materials.”

"Oh my god." she said with fake concern and he grinned. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Well." he said quietly, sitting down next to her. "Let's find out."

That was the first time she experienced the sensation of a painting brush on her skin; Oswald managed to find the perfect one - not too soft, but also not too stiff, just right to use on her now overly sensitive skin.

(Though she was sure this particular brush is not going to be much use after tonight; oh well. They could always buy a second one. Or buy out the entire shipment.)

"You are my _Starry Night."_ Oswald whispered at some point. "Ah! That's the joke I wanted to use."

It took him quite a long time to finally break her that night - but it happened eventually, at a break of dawn, after he abandoned the brush - that moved from her new best friend to her mortal enemy - and started to simply use his hand; nothing more, nothing less, just his hand between her tied up legs, just his lips on her neck, just her whiny moans in the air.

"Please..." she said finally and he smirked.

"Mmmm, not quite what I want to hear." he said, gently brushing her clit with his thumb and she groaned.

(She was on the edge; she's been there for quite some time now. All she needed was a gentle push - a push she had to ask for.)

"Please?" she tried again, deciding to play along for few more minutes.

"Mmmm-mmmm." he said, lightly tapping the skin of her underbelly with his fingers.

(When she glanced past him, she could see their reflection in a mirror; his relaxed, unbothered pose and her flushed skin.)

"Pretty please..." she finally gave in, using her most pleading tone.

Oswald's face softened, as he bent down to kiss her.

"Your wish is my command." he said softly. "Guide me."

"Untie me." she panted out, staring at him. "And fucking _let me come."_

"All in due time." he said with a smirk and she groaned, firmly refusing to say _pretty please_ again.

He took his knife and - slowly, carefully - dragged the blade across her skin and she shivered, closing her eyes. She loved the sensation of cold metal against her heated skin, and she loved the thrill of being well aware how dangerous it actually is.

(But she knew he wouldn't hurt her with it.)

Finally he started to cut through the ropes, not bothering with untying his own ties. Once her hands were free, she instantly reached down; but he only grabbed her hands, shaking his head with contempt.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." he said, looking her in the eye as she groaned. "And here I thought I taught you some patience."

"Sorry..." she muttered, as he released her hands; she crossed them on her chest, not knowing what to do with them to stop herself from giving in to her urge.

"Though one day I'd love to watch you, you know." he said suddenly, still playing with his knife.

"Oh, you're going to." she breathed out, squirming slightly; he remained motionless, just staring at her, playing with his knife.

"Just say the magic words, Charlie." he said nonchalantly. "Just tell me what I want to hear."

"Abracadabra?"

"...I have no idea what were you trying to accomplish."

(The knots on her legs were positioned in such a way she had no way of reaching them without breaking her own spine; he knew what he was doing. Absentmindedly she wondered who taught him that.)

"Oswald, for the love of god." she said finally, as he sat next to her, playing with his blade. "Help me!"

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, moving closer. "Hm?"

"I want you to get me out of this and then I want you to fuck me." she blurted out. "Deal?"

"You know I can't say no to you."

Once her legs were free and and once Oswald leaned in to kiss her, sliding his hand between her thighs she practically wrapped herself around him, her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck.

"I can't do anything like this, Charlie." he muttered, unsuccessfully trying to push her away. "You're crushing me!"

She groaned with disappointment and untangled her limbs, sitting with her back against the bedpost, impatiently watching Oswald get out of his clothes.

She felt like she's about to explode.

"Now." he finally said, taking her hand and brushing it with his lips, not taking his eyes off her. "Where were we?"

She did end up wrapped around him, after all; her back against the window and her head tilted back, not a care in the world as he was holding her close and his skin was under her fingertips and his arms were wrapped tightly around her and he was inside her and his lips were on her neck.

She was glad nobody can hear them.

"Happy birthday, love." he said finally, as they were resting, pieces of cut up ropes still cluttering the bed, both of them too lazy to clean them up.

"That was nice." she said reservedly, to which he snickered in response.

"Really? That's it?"

"Alright, you attention seeker." she muttered, turning around and putting her head on his chest. "It was... _Very_ nice."

"You ungrateful little minx." he said tenderly, playing with her hair.

"That's right." she purred, glancing at him. "That's me."

"You're lucky I love you."

"I'm the luckiest girl." she agreed, closing her eyes. "Now shut up. I'm tired."

"And I'm hungry."

"Mmmhm." she muttered, her eyes closed, her arm outstretched across his chest. "Mmmm."

"Will you let me get up if I tell you I still have one more gift for you?" he asked and she slowly opened her eyes, looking at him half attentively and half with annoyance.

Reluctantly she let him go and he pulled a box from under the bed.

She laughed quietly; smart decision. She _never_ looked under the bed.

"Now." he said, before handing her the box. "I realize this might seem weird, but-"

"Let me see." she interrupted him, taking the box and opening it.

Inside it was a gun - a compact revolver. She took it out carefully, looking at it in disbelief; at first glance it was obvious that thing was expensive as _hell_ , judging by its handle encrusted with nacre. It was a small thing; it'd fit right into any of her purses.

"Oswald..."

"I want you to be safe." he said tensely. "I know this is probably not what you're used to in terms of presents, but-"

Once again, she interrupted him.

"I never fired a gun in my life." she said hesitantly, glancing at him and putting the gun down. "Will you teach me?"

"Of course I will." he said softly, brushing her earlobe with his lips. "You know I'm good with firearms."

She stared at her present in silence for a while; he was right - that was not what she was used to. But it was a sign of _love -_ a sign of concern for her safety.

"I love you." she muttered, finally putting the box away, on her nightstand. "But I also really want some sleep."

"And I _really_ want to eat something."

"I don't care." she muttered, pushing him down to use him as an additional pillow. "At least wait for me to fall asleep."

"Fine." he capitulated, tenderly brushing her back with his fingertips. "A sandwich can wait."

"Mmmm." she muttered before falling asleep, thinking about how she _really_ should also take a shower-

she fell asleep and didn't wake up as he got out of bed to go down to the kitchen. She didn't wake up as he suddenly cussed, seeing Black Mask in their living room again; she didn't hear any of their awkward conversation, Oswald still completely naked, Black Mask - excessively clothed.

She didn't hear or care. She didn't have to; after all, Gotham city had its problems long before she showed up. She didn't have to be involved in everything.

That night she dreamt of nothing.

 


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sex also happens in this one, whoops - as well as some... extremelly non-graphic description of a torture party.

She woke up sore - but it was the _best_ kind of sore.

“Oswald.” she muttered, not moving from her spot in bed. “My purse.”

“What about it?” Oswald muttered back, also not moving.

“I need it.”

“Ugh.” he groaned; but he got up and handed her her purse. “How’s your… Everything?”

“At this point I think it’s safe to assume you fucked morality out of me.” she replied, pulling out the envelope she got from Elliot. “Also look at this. Thomas told me to open it at home.”

“Tell me if you’d start to feel like a good person again, I’ll be more than happy to help, any way possible.” he snickered, sitting down next to her. “What is it?”

“What’s _the Hush_?”

“What did you say?” he asked instantly.

“The Hush.” she repeated. “Because I just got an invitation.”

"They are a high society thing. A secret club of sadists, apparently."  
"...oh." she said after a moment, once she fully comprehended. "Naturally."  
“And Thomas Elliot - a man buying people from the previous Black Mask - handed you an invitation.” Oswald said, looking at her attentively. “I only found out about them when I was looking for Kōunji. I met someone who sold them some equipment, but… Torture devices are not quite my forte.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” she muttered, looking at the ceiling. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

“So I think this might be the awkward part where we start disagreeing on whether you should or not go there.” he said, rubbing his temple with his hand. “The only question is… Which side _are_ you on?”

“Honestly? I don’t want to go.” she said hesitantly. “Like… At _all_. I know I’m immoral, considering I look at everything you did and think _eh, could be worse_ \- but _a torture club_? Are we talking about a bdsm thing, or-”

“I’m sure _they_ see it that way.” Oswald said quietly. “As for their victims… I don’t think anyone’s consenting.”

“Fuck.” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “Of course. Elliot had been _buying_ Mask’s debtors as _toys_. And now he wants me to join the fun. I think he might be a bit too much into the whole blue balls thing.”

“I think you should go.” Oswald stated and she sighed deeply. “That invitation is a sign of trust. I think you’re getting really, really close.”

“Alright.” she breathed out. “I’ll go. It’s in three months anyway, I’ll have plenty of time to prepare.”

“If it makes you feel any better…” he said, turning his head to look at her. “I’m almost ready to make a return as the Penguin. Once the party rolls out… I’ll be armed and ready. We’ll figure it out.”

“What about Skua though?”

“I still don’t have any definite proof that’s Sofia wearing the mask.” he said reluctantly. “But who _else_ could it be? Plus she hadn’t try anything. I think she realized I have the high ground.”

“Or is preparing a trap.”

“Maybe.” he said with a shrug. “But I’ll be ready. I’ll teach her a lesson, one she’ll not forget anytime soon.”

Even though she still had time; she decided to start preparing herself as soon as possible. And it wasn’t a pleasant process - but so wasn’t the afternoon when she killed her husband. She was familiar with the sensation of blood on her hands, of life escaping someone’s eyes; and she was sure she’ll be able to tune the worst bits out. She tried to _understand_ this need for causing pain to others, she really did; after all, she liked a little pain in her sex life, a little bit of blood, a little bit of begging. But it was all consensual, and would stop the moment she wanted it to; it was the exact opposite of what these people were doing.

And in the end, there wasn’t much she could do to prepare herself - there was nothing about the Hush on the internet, nothing on conspiracy boards, nothing on the deep web. They covered their tracks well; all she could do was to try and desensitize herself. She was already not phased by what Oswald did; but he wasn’t actively torturing anyone.

In the meantime, she paid Victor Fries a visit; they crossed paths from time to time, and every time conversing with him was a delight. He seemed to feel as out of place as she did; plus he was simply a pleasant, warm person. The way he talked about his wife was most endearing, and she didn’t at all mind when he suggested switching to first names and invited her over to his place, to talk “like normal people”.

He lived near the Wayne Tower; and as she rang the doorbell he was in the middle of cleaning up.

“Charlie!” he greeted her joyfully. “Come in, come in. Let me just…”

He disappeared inside the flat before finishing his sentence and Charlie closed the door, looking around curiously. She could see lots and lots of paintings - someone clearly was an art lover.

“Alright, that should do it.” Fries said, returning to her and brushing his curly hair away from his face. “Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee. No tea you have can rival the jasmine one Wayne’s butler has.” she said with a smile and Victor laughed, going towards the kitchen and she followed.

“Nora wants me to live my own life.” Victor said lightly, making her coffee; caramel latte. “She says I’ve spent enough time with her. I guess… She’s right. In a way. There is no such thing as _spending too much time with my wife_.” he said. “God, that sounds like she’s dying, isn’t it?”

“A bit.” Charlie admitted, worried. “But she’s not, right?”

“No, no, absolutely.” he assured her. “She’s getting better. But maybe she’s just tired of me constantly being in the room. She probably just needs space.”

He handed her a glass; his hands were shaking slightly and his eyes were red.

“Troubles sleeping?” she asked, taking a sip; easily the best caramel latte she ever had. Victor sighed.

“Yeah.” he said. “I’m still not quite used to her… Not being here. I know she’s alive and fine - well, relatively - but she’s not _here_. It’s… Hard to explain.”

“No, I get it.” she assured him softly, thinking about all those times she wished Oswald was there. “So. What did you want me to see?”

“Right!” Victor said, snapping his fingers. “Follow me. It’s in the living room… I think.”

What he wanted to show her was an archival recording of one of Nora’s ballets, made with high quality equipment for the sake of theater archives; it captured every detail, every movement - and was never made public, because ballet is a hobby for snobs who can afford to see everything they want live.

“Nora stole it.” Victor said tenderly as they watched. “She stole a lot of recordings of herself, actually. She wanted to one day rebel and put them all online.”

“Hm, I know a guy who can help with covering her tracks.” she said with a smile. “God, she’s so… Graceful.”

“You can have it.” Victor said suddenly and she blinked a few times. “The recording, I mean. She wants to share it anyway, so…”

“Are you… Serious?” she asked. “This… Is the second best present this city had ever given me.”

(The first one was in her purse; a compact revolver, its handle encrusted with nacre.)

“Well, at least it’s in top five!” Fries said jokingly and she nudged him with her elbow. “I’m glad to hear it. And so will be Nora.”

They talked some more - about Nora, about his work, about Charlie’s home, about Pingu. She wanted to ask him about Oswald - but there was not a good occasion to do so. There was no good way to ask about his relationship with Gotham’s most wanted criminal; and Victor Fries had enough on his plate already. Stressful job, sick wife and Thomas Elliot’s careful attempts at friendly courting; it was a lot.

There was no need to add Oswald Cobblepot to the mix.

***

Before the blasted, dreaded party - there was at least one ray of pleasure waiting for both her and Oswald.

Works in the Cobblepot Park were finished a week before Oswald’s birthday - the mayor called her one afternoon, as she was watching Oswald work his wonders in the kitchen. They did it often - he’d cook and she’d sit on the table and watch him, stealing ingredients from time to time. She was just stuffing her mouth with grated cheese as her phone rang; she snatched it from the counter before Oswald noticed who’s calling.

(Having a _mayor_ call her would be suspicious and kind of hard to explain.)

“Good evening!” she panted out after locking herself in the bedroom upstairs. “I wasn’t expecting a call-”

“Life’s a string of unexpected events.” the mayor interrupted her. “Such as my first decision being fixing the Cobblepot Park. Wasn’t expecting that. The press is still talking about it. Someone theorized Bruce Wayne’s the anonymous donor. That he’s feeling guilty.”

“Well, it does sound plausible.” she said carefully. “Did you confirm?”

“I didn’t deny. And neither did he, for some reason. Is he involved?”

“No.” Charlie said, thinking about burning hatred Oswald felt for Bruce and weird sadness in Bruce’s eyes when he’d mention Oswald, his childhood friend. “It’s all on me.”

“Anyway.” the mayor said after brief silence. “It’s finished. Now, if Penguin comes back and this thing bites me in the ass - I’m going to use my own blood to write _your_ name on the wall. Because I’m sure this is somehow going to be your fault.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re a person of interest for him, mayor.”

“Oh? Do you know him and his methods well, miss Schiller-Aberdeen?” he asked sarcastically. “No, don’t answer, don’t answer, I don’t want to know what caused this decision… But I hope you’re happy.”

“Oh, I am.” she assured him; and she meant it. “Most happy.”

“Well, don’t expect my help if you decide to open a penguinarium.” the mayor sighed. “Your life’s your own. I just hope you know what you’re doing. Are you trying to lure Oswald Cobblepot out of hiding?”

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“I would never.” the mayor said tiredly; somehow he always sounded and looked tired, as if what he needed was fifty years of sleep and a pot of coffee and not a city to run. “Fine. Have your secrets. And as much as I appreciate your support… Next time just vote.”

He ended the call and Charlie left the bedroom; Pingu was waiting outside, wagging his tail and she petted him absentmindedly, returning downstairs. Oswald was still in the kitchen and she looked at him, leaning against the doorway; he looked peaceful. He looked happy. For a moment she forgot who he is; for a moment he was just a man she ended up with, not a wanted criminal.

“You’re staring.” he said finally, looking up. “Something’s wrong?”

“No, no.” she said after a moment. “Your birthday’s soon.”

“Mm-hm.” he said, stirring contents of the pot. “What, do you have something prepared for me?”

“Maybe.” she said. “But it’ll have to wait.” she added reluctantly. “I have… An event. So we can do it earlier, or later-”

“Earlier.” he interrupted her, turning around to face her. “Hey, I’m not mad.” he added. “You’re keeping your cover up, and I’m grateful. And honestly? _You’re_ the best gift I could ask for.”

“Oh, stop.” she muttered, her face turning red. “Stop it, you disgusting sap, you’re supposed to be a ruthless criminal.”

“And I am!” he snickered. “And a very sentimental one. I’m endlessly ruthless in my sentimentality. Remember, I did everything for my family. Don’t be so shocked at me being romantic.”

“God, I love you.” she sighed and he blew her a kiss.

The next day she dropped by the Waterfront, to pay a visit to Fish Mooney. She had a burning question to ask - and at that point she knew Fish Mooney is the right person.

It was middle of the day, so the local was closed; but Fish let her in through the back door. Inside was only a young bartender; Charlie never saw him around - and she knew he’s not going to last long. Bartenders in the Waterfront changed often; Fish wanted to find the best of the best, but to no avail, because the best bartender in Gotham was already in Peperoncino.

“You said it’s urgent.” Fish said lazily, taking Charlie to her office. “Is it about my boy?”

“Oswald? Partially.” Charlie said nervously and Fish laughed.

“No, I meant Harvey.”

“Oh! No, no, it’s not about Bullock.” she said quickly. “Alright. So.”

“So.” Fish repeated calmly, closing the door behind them and sitting on the surface of her desk, looking down at Charlie who was sitting in the chair. “Calm down, girl, I’m not going to eat you.”

“Sorry.” Charlie muttered; she was always nervous around Fish. Miss Mooney was a very beautiful woman, and very in Charlie’s type; she wondered if that might be the cause. “Oswald’s birthday coming up.”

“So I heard.” Fish said lazily, glancing at a nearby calendar, where a date of Oswald’s birthday was circled in red.”Anything I can help you with?”

“I did some digging online and I know you’re very prominent in Gotham’s bdsm scene.” Charlie said finally and Fish laughed. “Can you recommend me some handcuffs?”

“Oh, of course I can.” Fish said, not moving from her desk. “Is this how things work between you and Oswald?”

“Usually it’s the other way ‘round.” Charlie confessed and Fish grinned. “Except he favors the rope. I… Don’t think I’m up for the challenge.”

“Ah, yes, the rope. He works wonders with it, doesn’t he? He’s a natural.”

“...were you his teacher?”

“I taught many people.” Fish said, finally getting down and walking to a nearby cabinet. “Like good doctor Elliot.”

“...really?” Charlie asked faintly and Fish nodded, turning around to look at her.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve with Elliot, but be careful, girl.” Fish said quietly. “He’s not at all who he appears to be.”

Fish anxiously ran her fingers through her hair and turned her eyes away, crossing her arms on her chest.

“What do you know?” Charlie asked finally, feeling overwhelmed. “Did he… Hurt you?”

“Not me, no. But another girl. Beautiful little thing, named Ella.” Fish said with a sigh. “He didn’t respect her boundaries, ignored her safe word, over and over again… He got kicked out from the club after that. Never tried to get in again.”

“Did Ella press charges?”

“No. And she’s not in Gotham anymore.” Fish added. “She moved out. Haven’t heard from her since then… I hope she’s doing alright. I hope she moved on.”

“Thank you for the warning, Fish.” Charlie said softly. “But I’ll be alright. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” Fish said with a smirk, regaining her light attitude. “You have to be tough to spend so much time with Oswald and not go crazy. Now, about those handcuffs…”

***

Two days before Oswald’s birthday she bumped into Bruce Wayne in the park, as she was watching Pingu run around. Wayne looked a lot more downhearted than usual; he looked as if he hadn’t slept in a while.

“Good afternoon.” he said as he stood besides her with his hands in his pockets. “It’s been a while.”

“Good afternoon, Bruce.” she said politely; she was wearing one of Oswald’s sweatshirts again. “You look… Grim.”

“It’s because I’m in a grim mood.” he said calmly. “Do you know what day is it the day after tomorrow?”

“...Saturday?”

“It’s Oswald’s birthday.” he said, looking at her carefully, as he was looking for something in her eyes. “Did you know that?”

“No.” she lied. “I only know him from the news.”

“And what is your opinion on him?”

“He did raise some fair points.” she said carefully. “I’m sure… He was right in his own eyes.”

“Well, was he right in _your_ eyes?”

“It’s more complicated than that.” she said, looking back at her dog. “He had very good reasons to do what he did.”

“Know this firsthand, eh?” Bruce said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Don’t mind me.”

“Get some sleep, Bruce.” she said softly, turning around to face him. “Work problems?”

“You could say that.” he said with a shrug and he looked so miserable for a moment she wished she could be honest with him.

(Oswald still wanted his vengeance and she knew the day will come when she’ll have to choose; and few months ago she’d pick Oswald’s side with no hesitation. But now, after getting to know Bruce Wayne a little bit, after hearing him talk about his old friend… She’d still pick Oswald over Bruce, but she’d probably also feel bad about it.)

“Where do you think is he now?” she asked without thinking. “Penguin, I mean.”

“I have a feeling he’s closer than anyone might believe.” he said with a sigh. “I hope he’s happy. He deserves that much. Some happiness, some money, maybe a margarita… I feel for him more than he thinks I do, you know.”

“I can imagine.” she said quietly; Bruce sounded genuine. “You two were very close… I can only imagine how this whole thing feels.”

“It’s shitty on both ends.” he stated in response. “We both feel betrayed. And used. It’s… Not at all what I thought my relationship with Oz would be.”

He sighed and turned around; but just before leaving, he looked at her over his shoulder.

“I think he’d like you.” he stated calmly as she stood there, with her hands in the front pocket of Oswald’s sweatshirt. “God knows who is he into these days, but I think he’d like you.”

He left without giving her a chance to reply.

Oswald was doing something in the garage when she got back; he entered the kitchen as she was giving Pingu his afternoon treat.

“You look… Pale.” he said, wiping his hands in a kitchen towel. “What happened?”

“I think Bruce Wayne has depression.” she said and he snickered.

“Serves him right.” he said carelessly. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re on _his_ side now!”

“Hey, fuck you.” she said firmly. “I’m on _your_ side, but I have a facade to keep. I have to be nice to him. Ever heard of Stanislavski’s system?”

“I’m just joking.” he said quietly. “I don’t doubt your loyalty. You never gave me a reason for it.”

“And it’s going to stay that way.” she said, taking a step in his direction and furrowing her brows. “There’s _grease_ on your face.”

“Is there? Show me where.” he said, winking at her; but she only scoffed and crossed her arms.

“Take a shower.” she said firmly. “I’m not going to spend six hours getting _grease_ out of my clothes. Already did it once.”

“Alright, alright, I give up.” he capitulated, raising his arms. “I’ll be good now.”

Bruce Wayne’s words were ringing in her head as she watched him go upstairs, whistling; Bruce didn’t sound angry or vengeful. He sounded… Tired. Remorseful, even.

Like a broken, broken man.

***  
She woke him up with waffles the next day; he liked waffles and she finally bought a good waffle maker.

“Wake up!” she hummed, standing next to the bed. “Early bird gets the worm!”

“Penguins don’t eat worms.” he muttered, opening one eye. “Penguins eat… Waffles. Yeah, penguins eat waffles.”

“I feel like Animal Planet people might disagree.” she said, setting the tray down. “But fine. Your day, your rules.”

“Animal Planet people can choke.” he said, yawning. “They don’t know shit.”

They spent the day alone, pretending the outside world doesn’t exist; and no one bothered them, thankfully. She did feel sort of bad about having to celebrate his birthday one day before the actual date, while _hers_ happened on time; but he didn’t seem to mind.

Going to Cobblepot Park was out of question, considering the state of the city; but she got plenty of pictures from the mayor - and the park looked beautiful.

“So.” she said, sitting down next to Oswald, holding a pile of photos on her lap. “I know this is not as good as a first hand experience, but… You know. You’re a wanted man.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked slowly; to which she simply handed him the photos of his father’s renovated bust, of freshly planted trees, brand new benches, renovated sidewalks and paths; and he shuffled through them quietly. When he looked at her his eyes were as red and puffy as they were that one day he brought home a bunch of onions. He claimed they’re mild at best - but as soon as he cut into one tears started to stream down his cheeks as she was laughing her ass off in the background.

“Mild?!” she asked from a safe distance, as he was cursing. “Mild!”

“It looks like me and auntie have radically different definitions of _mild_!” he replied. “Fucking hell, I think I’m going to literally cry my eyes out! This could be used as a biological weapon!”

And as he looked at the photos of the Cobblepot Park - now clean and well-lit and rebuilt according to the original plans, accepted by his father, safely stored away in the mayor’s office - he looked just like he did back then.

“I was the anonymous donor.” Charlie said as he looked at her, still completely silent. “I had a deal with the mayor. He doesn’t know… About us.” she added quickly. “He thinks I’m just a rich weirdo.”

Without saying anything, Oswald dropped the photos and pulled her closer and burrowed his face in her hair. He was trembling, as she wrapped her arms around him; they didn’t say a word, they simply sat there for a while.

“Thank you, love.” Oswald said finally. “I _knew_ you had something to do with it.”

“Well, do you like it?” she asked and it took him a while to answer.

“Yes.” he said finally, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. “Very much.”

“But that’s not all I have in store for you for tonight.” she added provocatively. “Are you in mood for some… _Fun_?”

“Something tells me you already know the answer.”

“Yes I do.” she said, pulling a blindfold out of her pocket.

She blindfolded him and quickly disappeared in the bathroom.

“I need you to see what I found online.” she said. “Take a look. I look _incredible._ ”

Naturally when she took his blindfold off - he laughed.

“What?” she asked provocatively, walking around in a penguin kigurumi she bought online. “Don’t you like it?”

“You look ridiculous.” he finally choked out, his eyes red and wet - either from laughter, or the park pictures. “Come here.”

“No, you come here.” she replied, patting a nearby chair. “Catch me if you can?”

“What, is my loudest supporter suddenly afraid of me?” he asked, getting up and getting rid of his tie. “Come on, Charlie.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” she chimed, walking backwards and reaching into her pocket to check if the real surprise was there. “Come on, you lazy bum. Catch me!”

After a short chase around the room - with Pingu completely not interested in anything, he simply yawned and went upstairs to continue his nap - and a very brief struggle Oswald ended up exactly the way she wanted him to - with his hands cuffed behind his back.

He looked mildly amused as she sat him down in the chair.

“Well.” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “This is surprising.”

“I told you I’ll get my revenge.” she said playfully, twirling the key in her hands and tossing it aside, not taking her eyes off Oswald.

“Please tell me you have a spare key.” he said amused, cocking his head and she scoffed.

“Of course I do! Now shut up.” she muttered, sitting on his lap and unbuttoning the fleece outfit; he grinned, seeing she wasn’t wearing any bra underneath. “You’re mine.”

“Yes.” he agreed, trying to kiss her; but she laughed and moved her head away, brushing his neck with her fingers.

“All in due time.” she assured him as he groaned. “Patience.”

She put her hand between his legs and squeezed lightly, winking at him. Then she finally got out of that fleece monstrosity; and she was only wearing his favorite panties.

His eyes were focused on her face, as she sat back down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“It’s time for you to taste your own medicine, you know.” she whispered, lazily brushing his jaw with her lips. “Don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” he said, tilting his head as she kissed his neck and unbuttoned his shirt, sliding her hands across his torso. “Are you going to make me beg?”

“Maybe yes, maybe not.” she said, again sliding her hand between his thighs and he squirmed slightly. “But probably yes.”

“Well that’s reassuring.” he said in a raspy voice and she giggled, planting a few butterfly light kisses on his chest before sliding off his lap.

She always knew that sometimes, kneeling is the best position - it can be used as a deception, fake submission. It can also be the most powerful position to be in - and she had a bone to pick with Oswald, regarding this particular topic.

(He once pushed her against a wall and kept her on the edge for a good hour, all while kneeling and smirking at her. He was very persuasive when he was on his knees.)

“Looks like someone’s excited.” she whispered, stroking his erection with her fingers and gently nudging the piercing at the end. “And _I’m_ the sensitive one?”

“Yeah.” he breathed out, his eyes half closed. “You are.”

“Mmm.” she murmured, still stroking him. “Then I guess it’s good you’re in handcuffs and I’m not, innit?”

She took him into her mouth before he answered, winking at him as he gasped, trying to wiggle his way out of the handcuffs - but to no avail.

(With his eyes closed and his head tilted and his lips parted he looked beautiful and she wished she could take a photo.)

“Ah, ah, ah.” she whispered, moving her head away and wiping her lips; he was close, but she intended to keep him like this for a while. “Not yet.”

“Oh, fuck you.” he muttered and she laughed, sitting back down on his lap, his length resting against her stomach as she returned to kissing his neck.

“Keep talking like this and you won’t get to lay a single finger on me tonight.” she whispered, straightening her back. “And I _know_ you’d love to.”

Looking him in the eye, she stroked her nipples with her fingertips and he squirmed.

“Oh, come on, love.” he said as she was slowly circling her aerolas. “Really?”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” she muttered in response, gently wrapping her fingers around him, her other hand still on her breast. “That’s what you get for being an insufferable prick, mister Cobblepot.”

She kissed him as he desperately, breathily moaned into her mouth and she snickered, moving her hand up and down slowly.

“What, getting so worked up already?” she asked teasingly.

“Not at all, no.” he responded, breathing heavily, his face flushed and his eyes beautifully, mesmerizingly hazy.

“But I am.” she said blithely; and she wasn’t lying, she was way more into it than she thought she’d be. “It’s such a good thing I’m not the one handcuffed… Right?”

“Oh, you’re going to regret this.” he breathed out as she turned around, resting her back against his tense chest, her head on his shoulder.

“Mmmm-hm. Sure.” she said carelessly, sliding her hand into her panties as he watched.

She stroked herself and moaned into his ear and laughed as he was trying to get out of the handcuffs and occasionally stroked him with her fingertips, a gentle, teasing touch with almost no pressure; enough to remind him of his state, not enough to push him over the edge.

“Hey, let’s make a deal.” she said lazily, her hand still between her legs, her eyes half closed. “Are you listening?”

“...yeah.” he said after a moment and she laughed; he looked almost defeated.

(She wondered if that’s how he looked like after his final clash with the Bat.)

“I’m going to bed.” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair and planting a kiss on his chin. “And I’ll give you a minute to get out of this. If you manage - you can join me. If you don’t… Too bad.”

“And _how_ do you expect me to get out?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” she giggled, getting up and stretching, her hard nipples only few inches from his face. “But remember, Oswald…”

She leaned in to place a light kiss on scar, running across the bridge of his nose.

“This is your one and only chance.” she whispered, turned around and started walking towards the stairs-

but she never reached them. She intended to go up and leave the bedroom doors open and let him _hear_ her every sound; but she never did any of that, because Oswald suddenly grabbed her from behind, his hands miraculously free.

“Well then.” he breathed out into her ear, tightly pressing her arms to her torso. “Looks like someone’s fucked.”

She nodded quietly; she was… Well, she definitely wasn’t _scared_ \- she was never scared or afraid of him. He never gave her a reason to. Surprised? Probably. Excited? More than she expected.

“How did you do it?” she asked as he cuffed her hands behind her back.

“Fish.” he said and she groaned; of _course_ Fish told Oswald about her questions. “She told me which handcuffs she recommended… And luckily, I _do_ know how to get out of those”

He sat her down in the same chair and looked at her, brushing his hair away from his face. She smiled innocently, wondering what does he have in store for her.

(Her heart was beating hard and fast and she was hot and wet.)

“Spread your legs.” he said finally, kneeling down. “I’m going to make you regret everything you did.”

He winked at her as she spread her legs and he kissed the inside of her thigh and brushed her clit with his thumb through the lace of her lingerie.

“You prick.” she muttered, writhing helplessly. “Take them off!”

“I’m considering it.” he said jauntily, teasing her lightly, placing a kiss right above the hem of her panties and looking at her from between her legs. “But I want you to ask nicely. Or…”

He paused for a moment to gently brush her mound with his fingertips.

“This can go on for a while.” he finally continued. “Because, love… This _is_ my birthday.”

“You really are insufferable.” she breathed out and he laughed insolently and she groaned.

“Keep talking like this, and I’ll never lay a finger on you ever again.” he threatened her and she raised her brows.

(She wasn’t even going to pretend she believes him.)

“Okay, fine!” she finally breathed out after few more minutes, squirming. “Please. Please take them off.”

“And..?” he asked innocently and she felt like one day she might give in to his more brutal desires. “Go on, love.”

“...I genuinely have no idea what do you want me to say.”

“...I was thinking about something along the lines of _have your way with me_ or _punish me_.”

“Oh. Right. Please…” she said, returning to her most breathy, moaning tone of voice, as he resumed his light teasing. “I’ve been bad…”

“Oh, that is true.” he agreed, finally taking her panties off. “Using my own weapons against me… Tsk, tsk, tsk, Charlie. Who told you it’s a good idea?”

He pulled two pieces of rope from underneath the chair - _of course he was prepared, he always was -_ and slowly, methodically pushed her legs farther apart, bending her knees and tying her ankles to the back legs of the chair.

(She was open and vulnerable and very, _very_ excited; she wondered if he can see it.)

“Now.” he whispered, leaning in, lazily kissing her neck. “What was it that you called me earlier?”

His hand slid between her legs and she gasped and he smirked, looking her in the eye.

“Insufferable prick.” she finally breathed out and he snickered.

“Oh, that was not the good answer.” he said casually, pulling a painting brush seemingly out of thin air. “You just called me that again… And on my _birthday_ , Charlie! What a cruel girl you are.”

With a paintbrush and his fingers and his mouth he made her beg; he pushed her to the edge and kept her there, refusing her that one last push. With his tongue on her nipple and his touch between her thighs she was so frustrated she could feel tears in her eyes.

“Please!” she begged as he slowly lowered his head, tracing her skin with kisses, moving his lips lower, lower, _lower._

“Mmmm.” he muttered, his lips a hair’s breadth from her clit. “Blow me, Charlie.”

Before she fully processed his response he cut the ropes and moved away a bit.

She got up - barely, her legs were weak and she dropped to her knees almost instantly. Oswald smirked.

“Yeah.” he said quietly, putting a hand on her head. “Like that.”

She took him into her mouth and looked at him, with her eyes half closed, her eyelids heavy like lead.

He pulled out as he was about to come and she whined in protest; she started to like toying with his piercing with her tongue. It made him make some hypnotizing noises.

“Come on. Get up.” he said breathlessly, helping her up. “This is enough.”

He picked her up and carried her to their bedroom; and there she finally felt him inside of her and she moaned, arching her back.

“Do you want me to uncuff you?” he whispered, his face inches away from hers; instead of responding she lifted her head and kissed him, biting his lip.

It didn’t take them a lot of time to come; and as they were lying next to each other Charlie squirmed and Oswald snickered.

“Okay, uncuff me now.” she asked. “The spare key is in the top right drawer of my dressing table.”

“Yeah, sure.” he said, lazily getting up, walking up to the table and opening the drawer. “Uh… It’s not here.”

“...tell me you’re joking.”

“Of course I’m joking.” he said, turning around with a key in hand; finally he uncuffed her and she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him.

“God, again?” he muttered and she laughed, shaking her head.

“I’m going to try harder next time.” she promised him. “And you will not know what’s coming.”

“Mmm. Sure, love.” he said nonchalantly. “Sure.”

“I love you, Oswald. Even though… Sometimes you _are_ a prick.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Stop ruining the moment.”

“Mmmm.” he muttered. “Alright. I love you.”

***

Eventually the late afternoon of the next day came and Charlie had to get going; she had a fundraiser to attend and a certain Thomas Elliot to dazzle. Summer was ending and Gotham social elite already missed spring; and she had _just_ a perfect dress for the occasion in her wardrobe. Light pink, chiffon dress, decorated with light flower decorations; beautiful Paolo Sebastian creation exposing her soft skin, while not revealing too much.

“Oh, this is beautiful.” Oswald said, glancing at the dress sprawled across their bed. “Elliot is a lucky guy.”

“And I’m _not_ a lucky girl.” she said, opening the underwear drawer.

“Wear something you don’t like.” Oswald purred. “Alright?”

“Is there something you’re hiding from me, Oswald?” she said, picking up a pair of modest, black panties. “Should I be worried?”

“There’s _plenty_ I’m not telling you, for your own sake.” he said, pulling some rope out of his pocket. “Interested?”

“You know I am.” she said with a smile, disappearing in the bathroom. “Just let me take a shower and you can do your magic.”

(Oswald did that often when she was going to spend an evening with Elliot; almost as if he wanted to remind her of his existence, as if he didn’t want her to forget. But she didn’t mind; he wasn’t possessive. He simply liked to make her squirm.)

“You look beautiful just like this.” he sighed as she left the bathroom, her face bare, her skin soft and slightly pink from the hot water, no elegant clothes shielding her body from his eyes.

“Are you implying I look bad with my makeup on?” she said as he was wrapping the rope around her waist and he snickered.

“Don’t twist my words, love, you might regret it.” he said playfully. “But I quite like the fact I’m one of very few people in Gotham who know how you look in your free time.”

“I wouldn’t have anyone else see me first thing in the morning.” she said softly, as he was tying his knots. “I wish I could stay home tonight…”

She waited for him to suggest something along the lines of _pretend you’re sick_ , but instead he only nodded.

“Yes, truly a shame.” he muttered, tying the last knot.

She took a few steps and groaned quietly. “How do you keep those knots from moving?!”

“Magic.” he said with a smirk. “I’m like a scarf trick, it’s all up the sleeve.”

“And your coat _does_ have very roomy sleeves.” she said with a sigh, sitting down to do her makeup and hair. “Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Me?” he asked innocently and she looked at him in the mirror. “Never! _Reckless_ is not even a part of my vocabulary!”

“No idiot is an idiot in their own eyes.” she muttered masking her freckles and he snickered. “I really don’t want to one day wake up to Jack Ryder talking about how you challenged Batman to a duel, you know.”

“You’ll find out from me if that happens.” he promised innocently and she threw a hairbrush at him.

Finally she put her dress on and stood in front of a mirror for some time, wondering if it really was a good idea; she nervously started to fix the fabric on her breasts, desperate to hide any and all hints of her nipples from the outside world.

“I can’t see a thing.” Oswald assured her. “Even though I _know_ they’re here. In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone knows. Everyone has nipples, Charlie.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like when people I’m not going to bang get to see mine.” she muttered, turning around. “Give me my shoes.”

“Not yet.” he said, holding her pair of soft pink Eden Heels high in the air. “You know the price.”

She kissed him and he smiled and gave her her shoes and watched her put them on.

“Now be quiet for a moment.” she muttered. “I think I heard Elliot’s car outside.”

“Oh, sure, leave me in the darkness.” he said jokingly as she turned the lights off and went downstairs; he remained upstairs, just like he did every time someone who was not on the secret was picking her up. “You heartless witch.”

“Shhh!” she said. “Be quiet. I’d hate for _him_ to be the reason everything goes to hell.”

He blew her a kiss in the dark and in that moment she heard a doorbell and Pingu started to growl.

“Shhhhh.” she muttered, putting a cape on. “Not you too.”

Shiba Inu looked at her like she was stupid and barked twice, before turning around and disappearing in the living room.

Thomas Elliot was waiting outside, looking as stoic as usual in his dark tux and deep red tie; and suddenly she missed Oswald’s dark blue suit paired with obnoxiously yellow tie.

“Good evening.” she said nervously. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Not at all, no.” he replied politely, briefly glancing at her before looking inside her - dark, seemingly empty - house. “We should introduce our dogs one day. I heard the barking.”

“Sure. Pingu could use some more friends.” she said, knowing this is not at all a good idea; she looked up tosa dogs. They were dangerous; and Pingu was just a _child_. A dog _toddler_.

“Yours is named Pingu?” Elliot asked, sounding almost amused. “That’s… Remarkable.”

“There is nothing I can say in my defense.” she sighed, getting inside his car. “I guess for a moment I forgot about Gotham’s bad history with penguins… And then it was too late.”

“I’m sure Oswald Cobblepot would appreciate the sentiment.” Thomas said politely and she nodded, surprised to hear the name of her beloved not said with disgust. “Even if it was accidental.”

“Or maybe he’d kill me on spot.” she said carefully. “Who knows. He’s… Unpredictable.”

“Oh, he’s very predictable.” Thomas disagreed politely. “He’s single minded, focused on one and one thing only… Vengeance. When he strikes again - and I have no doubt about it - it’s obvious he’ll focus on Bruce Wayne again.”

“How do you know he’s going to come back?”

“I don’t think he ever left.” Thomas said calmly and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. “I understand him, to a certain degree. I don’t think he ever left. I know I wouldn’t.”

“Considering a life of crime, Thomas?” she asked jokingly, trying to hide her unrest.

Thomas looked at her briefly and smiled faintly; and for a brief moment he looked like a shark. A predator, trying to trick his prey into feeling safe.

“No.” he said finally, but he sounded hesitant - as if there was something else he wanted to say, like _I don’t have to consider anything_.

But he hadn’t said anything like this and rest of the drive passed in silence.

When they arrived - the fundraiser was being held in one of the oldest, most gothic buildings in Gotham, currently being used as an opera building - they bumped into Jonathan Crane as soon as they entered.

“Doctor!” Charlie called out to him and he looked up; something weird glimmered in his eyes as he noticed Thomas at her side, something like uneasiness, distrust, wariness - but it disappeared without a trace after a moment.

“Charlie!” he said exuberantly, walking up to them. “And Thomas. What a pleasant surprise!”

“It’s always a pleasure to see you outside the office, doctor.” Thomas said stiffly, briefly glancing at Charlie; his eyes were burning her exposed skin. “Is she a patient of yours as well?”

“No, luckily I’m not in need of good doctor’s services.” she said with a smile and Crane laughed quietly.

“You two look lovely together.”

Elliot was holding her arm and squeezed it tightly as he heard Crane. Charlie didn’t like it.

(But she liked the feeling of Oswald’s knots under the dress.)

“I think so, yes.” Elliot said politely.

She spotted Esme in the crowd; Salvatore’s secretary was talking with someone and she looked relaxed and content, almost as if she wasn’t being stalked by the Joker, almost as if she wasn’t in grave danger.

The evening was bearable, even though Thomas was following her around tirelessly. She could see Louise, and wanted to talk to her - but with Elliot few steps behind it’d be a very uncomfortable conversation.

(She kept looking around, hoping to spot Victor Fries, but to no avail; he was probably visiting his wife. She felt a sting of jealousy; she wished _she_ could be with her loved one.)

She could even spot the mayor, but she didn’t dare talk to him; something in his body language was practically screaming he’d rather be left alone.

And then the Joker showed up.

Nobody expected him, because why would they? He’s been pretty quiet for some time, and people assumed he vanished; but he didn’t. When people weren’t paying attention to him, he managed to actually find some henchmen - and now they were at the fundraiser, keeping the guests hostage.

In person, Joker looked almost harmless, almost jovial, almost apologetic - almost. He wasn’t fooling anyone, and the illusion disappeared as soon as he spotted Esme in the crowd.

“You look different.” he said, sounding surprised. “But I know it’s you. I’d recognize you anywhere, I’d recognize those eyes anywhere… So pretty. They’d make a marvelous necklace, don’t you think?”  
“Who are you?” Esme asked slowly, not taking her - remarkable, beautiful, grey, almost silver - eyes off the Joker. “Who _are_ you?”

“Oh, it’s a long story!” the Joker said carelessly, toying with a gun he was holding. “And an unbelievable one. Do you believe in parallel words, Esme?”

He said her name almost tenderly, almost playfully. Esme turned pale and briefly glanced at mortified Charlie and - seemingly very calm - Louise.

“How do you know me?” Esme asked shakily; but before the clown answered, another guest decided to show up.

“Good _evening_ , ladies and gentleman!” Charlie heard a slightly muffled, slightly raspy voice, coming from the back of the room.

And when she looked in that direction - there he was, Oswald Cobblepot in all his Penguin glory, sporting a brand-new mask, a jet-black suit and a very familiar, yellow tie. He was accompanied with his own men, who quickly took care of Joker’s helpers; Penguin’s men were experienced. Joker’s… Not so much.

Penguin slowly walked through the crowd and no one dared to stop him and Charlie couldn’t take her eyes off him; he looked relaxed, at ease, as if he was in control.

(He was totally in control.)

“It seems like showing up uninvited is becoming my standard modus operandi!” he said, briefly looking around and Charlie’s heart skipped a beat when his head was turned in her direction. “I’d apologize for interrupting a pleasant evening, but… It looks like someone’s beaten me to it. Interrupting, I mean.”

The Joker tapped his shoulder impatiently and Penguin turned around.

“At least we meet.” he said, bowing mockingly. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here!”

“This is my turf, birdie.” Joker said angrily, crossing his arms, not taking his eyes off Penguin. “Your time in the spotlight’s over.”

“Did you hear that?!” Penguin asked, looking at the horrified crowd. “He’s trying to run Gotham! He thought I’m gone, he thinks this is _his_ realm now! He thinks I’m out!”

He wasn’t paying attention to the more and more annoyed Joker, who tried to say something; but instead Penguin only shushed him.

“But the truth is…” he continued, completely unbothered. “This is still MY. FUCKING. CITY.”

He turned around to face the clown, quickly pulling out a gun; Charlie gasped quietly, covering her mouth.

(He looked _very_ dominant and she squirmed slightly, rubbing her legs together.)

“And you, my pale faced friend…” he said, calm again, his gun touching Joker’s forehead. “You don’t _belong_ here.”

He pulled the trigger and Joker’s head exploded and Esme screamed, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh, shut up!” Penguin said carelessly, waving his gun and looking down at blood splattered all over his suit. “Don’t tell me you’re _mourning_ him.”

He grabbed a napkin from a nearby table and wiped a big chunk of Joker’s brain off his silk tie.

“Now, to be perfectly honest - that wasn’t planned.” he said, looking up again. “Wasn’t expecting to see him here. Now, as to _why_ I’m here…”

He looked around again, seemingly focusing on Louise, who was standing next to the mayor.

“So this is how you look in real life.” he said quietly. “Gotham’s newest district attorney… And a person constantly on my tail.”

“Good evening.” Louise said calmly, taking a sip of her wine; Oswald laughed and Charlie wondered if Louise _knew_. “You’re taller than I thought.”

“You are a formidable enemy, miss McDonagh.” Oswald said raspily. “I’ll take great pleasure in destroying you, bit by bit. But this… Is also _not_ why I’m here.”

He turned around once again, facing Charlie and tense Elliot.

“Good evening, beautiful stranger.” he said, coming closer and Charlie held her breath, watching him slowly, lazily come up to her, until he was standing inches away. “Miss Schiller-Aberdeen, I presume?”

“...yes.” she said, completely mesmerized, very aware of the slight pressure between her legs. “How do you know my name?”

“Oh, I simply keep track of who my supporters are!” he said carelessly. “Oh, I’ve heard it all. Every word you said in my defense. It’s… Very touching.”

He bowed and she briefly glanced at his hands, at his leather gloves.

“You’re about to become the most expensive woman in Gotham.” Penguin said raspily, taking her hand; Thomas Elliot groaned and stepped between them.

“Leave her.” he said firmly, to which Penguin simply snickered - and her way fluttered, hearing this familiar sound - and clubbed him in the head with his gun. Hard - hard enough to render him unconscious.

“He’ll be alright.” Penguin said calmly. “Now, where were we… Ah. Right.”

He suddenly pulled her closer, turning her around and tightly wrapping his arm around her; she felt something touch her head, something hard and metallic.

A gun.

She held her breath again, closing her eyes; she was more into this than she probably should. She knew Oswald is not going to hurt her; this was all just for show.

(She suddenly remembered mentioning that he looked disturbingly hot when he killed mayor Hill; it looked like he took her words to heart.)

“And now my friends are going to collect your money and jewels.” Penguin said calmly and she could feel his gloved fingers on her neck. “And you can probably guess what will happen if you don’t comply.”

“Please…” she whimpered, partially playing along and partially referring to how turned on she was.

Penguin shushed her.

“All in due time.” he said lightly, gently nudging her with his gun. “So, beautiful stranger. How’s Gotham treating you?”

“Nothing to complain about, so far.” she said, feeling the rhythm of his breaths. “You’re taller than I thought you’d be.”

“Glad to pleasantly disappoint you.” he said lazily. “Now, before I let you go - which will happen _eventually_ \- I have one more favor to ask.”

“Of course!” she said hastily, playing along. “Whatever you need, mister Penguin.”

He snickered, turning away to face the buffet table and forcing her to look as well.

“I’m on my way to a meeting with a friend, you see.” he said, taking a step in table’s direction. “A very _dear, close_ friend. And I promised to bring a bottle or two… But silly me! I forgot to actually _buy_ something.”

He let her go, putting his gun to the exposed skin between her shoulder blades; she shivered, forcing herself to not let out a quiet moan.

“Help me out!” he said cheerfully. “Come on, love.”

He called her _love_ mockingly, in the most demeaning way possible, that sounded nothing like the way he said it many other times, when they were alone.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked, her hands trembling slightly; her purse was lying on the floor nearby, her gun inside. “An anniversary?”

“Of sorts.” he said and she picked up a bottle of her favorite pink wine.

“Champagne is cliche.” she said calmly, slowly turning around and presenting the bottle to Penguin. “Everyone expects that. Nobody expects pink wine.”

“You are a lifesaver!” he said with gratitude; one of his men hastily took the bottle from her and stepped away. “But we’re not done yet.”

“Leave her alone, Cobblepot.” Louise snapped. “This is your last warning.”

Oswald laughed.

“But I simply want her to see me out!” he said, grabbing Charlie again. “That is all. I’ll let her go, alive and unharmed… I just want her to accompany me for a bit. That is all.”

“I’ll be fine.” Charlie said as they were walking past Louise, Oswald pushing her in front of her. “I promise. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, how sweet. Good friends?” he asked mockingly, as they were heading towards the back door, followed by his men.

“I think we’re rich, boss.” one of his men said calmly, glancing at Charlie. “Need a moment alone?”

Behind a building there was a spacious garden; and just behind the fence Charlie could spot numerous identical cars, no doubt Penguin’s way of getting away.

“Yes.” Oswald said, pulling Charlie back inside the building, into a dimly lit corridor. “I’ll be right with you, boys.”

He pulled his mask off and threw it onto the ground; he was grinning as she giggled.

“Liked the surprise?” he asked, taking a step in her direction; she took a step back, hitting a wall with her back.

“Oh, definitely.” she said, grabbing his blood-stained tie and pulling him closer. “Kiss me, you prick.”

“Prick?” he whispered, grabbing her wrists, pulling them above her head, holding her in place. “Oh, Charlie.”

He kissed her hungrily, sliding his free hand under the fabric of her dress, gently caressing her breast with his gloved fingers and she whimpered, desperately wanting _more_.

He pulled away, smirking.

“Someone’s impatient.” he whispered, letting go of her wrists.

“Maybe.” she said as he pulled out a knife and winked at her, taking his gloves off.

He quickly cut through her panties and pulled them from underneath the rope and she gasped, feeling the rough rope on her bare skin.

“You ass!” she said as he kissed her neck, grabbing her wrists again. “You absolute, insufferable-”

But she stopped talking as his lips slid lower and his fingers briefly pushed the knotted rope aside, teasing her lightly. He pulled the fabric of her dress aside with his teeth and she gasped when he lightly bit the skin just around her areola.

He took his hand away as she was on the brink and let go of her, smirking as she groaned.

“We both should now go.” he whispered as she hastily fixed her dress, squirming at the sensation of the rough rope against her now - very sensitive - center. “I’ll be waiting home.”

“Oh, you better.” she said, watching him put the mask back on. “Did you feed the dog?”

“I did. Take care, love.” he said, disappearing outside and leaving her with flushed cheeks, racing heart and pulsating heat deep inside.

Louise got to her as soon as she returned.

“We have to talk.” she said, pulling her by her arm; in the corner of the room she saw Esme, surrounded by the police. She was still pale, but at least she wasn’t crying anymore.

“Move.” Louise shortly said to a young policeman who wanted something from her. “Not now. MOVE.”

“How is Esme holdin’ up?” Charlie asked quietly and Louise scoffed.

“This is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation.” she finally replied. “Cobblepot got the clown before _we_ did. He just fucked a lot of things up for a lot of people.”

“It’s not _his_ fault GCPD or Batman didn’t catch the Joker.” she argued as Louise put a hand on her waist and pushed her into an empty room. “If it wasn’t for _him_ -”

“We don’t know what would have happened!” Louise interrupted her angrily. “What was that about anyway? Did you _know_ about this?!”

“I knew about the fact he was trying to contact Esme.” she said with resignation. “But I never got any details, because Esme and Misty decided I’d be useless anyway. So I know as much as you do.”

“Fucking great.” Louise groaned. “I simply _love_ being that much out of the loop.”

She crossed her arms on her chest and looked at Charlie with a mix of expectancy and impatience.

“What?” Charlie finally asked anxiously and Louise _exploded._ Her fury was quiet, because if she yelled everyone would find out; but she was _pissed._

“Are you two out of your minds?!” Louise asked. “How could you?!”

“I didn’t know!” Charlie said defensively. “Okay? He never told me!”

(That was only partially a lie. He _did_ tell her he’s going to come back as Penguin - he simply never told her _when_.)

“He _lives_ with you! What do you mean _you didn’t know_?!”

“He’s not telling me everything! He said… He said it’s for my own good.” she finished quietly and Louise scoffed angrily.

“Oh, of fucking course - _your_ good. But fuck everyone else, right?”

“I’m not his babysitter! I’m not responsible!”

“Well maybe it _is_ time to find someone who’ll take full responsibility for him. Maybe it _is_ time to ground him once and for good.” Louise said coldly and Charlie blinked.

“You can’t be serious.” she said with disbelief. “You want to _lock him up_?!”

“I… Don’t know.” Louise admitted, suddenly sounding very tired. “He’s still my friend. And Vicki’s friend. And your… Paramour.” she added, wincing slightly. “But don’t be shocked if Maroni cuts all ties with him, and by association - with you. We’re probably on our own now.”

“Well, I’m still game.” they heard Bullock say; he entered the room quietly as they were arguing and stood by the door for god knows how long. “As long as someone whoops his ass from me.”

“Detective. Squeezed something out of Esme?” Louise said, not taking her eyes off Charlie.

“No.” Bullock said, shaking his head. “And now we will never get anything out of anyone, now that our person of interest is very much dead. Was that supposed to be a present?” he asked suddenly, turning his attention to Charlie. “Did he kill that clown… For you?”

“Trust me, I would also prefer flowers and pearls.” she muttered; that was a blatant lie and everyone knew it.

“And now the Penguin investigation will be in full swing again.” he said tiredly. “And _you_ will be a person of interest as well.”

“What?” she asked slowly, before remembering everything Penguin had said to her in front of others. “Oh. Right.”

“It’s best for him to get out of Crest Hill while he still can. I know all about his friends in the Quarter, he can disappear there. He can’t live with you anymore.” Bullock said firmly and she nodded sadly. “Glad you agree. Talk to him, kick him out, secure yourself…”

“And do something about your neck.” Louise added, absentmindedly touching a bitemark on Charlie’s neck with her index finger.

And in that moment, the door opened and some more people entered the room - the mayor, Jack Ryder, Jonathan Crane and Thomas Elliot, pale but collected and very much awake.

“You’re alright!” Elliot said as soon as he saw her, as Louise slowly took her hand away. “Oh, thank god.”

“He barely touched me.” Charlie muttered, looking away. “Are _you_ alright? He hit you… Pretty hard.”

“He’ll live.” Jonathan said before Thomas said anything. “There will be some swelling, but Penguin didn’t actually injure him.”

“That’s good.” Charlie said quietly, thinking about how pleasant it was to see Penguin hurt Thomas. “What a night, huh?”

“Yes.” the mayor agreed slowly, crossing his arms on his chest and looking at her - and it was a _very_ meaningful look, one that contained a sum of his every half-joke, every half-accusation, every subtle assumption. “What a night indeed.”

“We’ll do the questioning tomorrow, first thing in the morning.” Louise decided. “I’m sure she’s tired. Right?”

“Right.” Charlie said, looking away, feeling uneasy under all this attention; their eyes were burning her skin.

“I’ll-” Thomas started, but Louise interrupted him.

“You can’t drive.” she said firmly. “I’ll drive her home. Detective Bullock will take care of you and your car. Right, detective?” she said, already pulling Charlie towards the door; Bullock sighed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re squirming.” Louise muttered as they were walking towards the exit, passing shocked civilians and very tired cops. “What’s up with that?”

“I have a piece of rope under my skirt.” Charlie said quietly, perfectly calm. “It goes between my legs. There are knots.”

“Honestly, I feel like I just witnessed your foreplay.” Louise said and Charlie looked away. “...I did, right? That’s what happened. Some very weird foreplay.”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“You two are disgusting.” Louise said tiredly. “But alright. Just as long as you’re careful.”

Louise dropped Charlie off some time after midnight. All the lights in her home were turned off, and the front doors were locked; and for a moment - as she was petting very distraught Pingu - she thought no one’s home, that Oswald disappeared.

“Oswald?” she asked, going upstairs; there she saw his bloodstained clothes piled on the floor of their bedroom. “Oswald!”

“I’m here!” he finally replied hastily; his voice was coming from downstairs. “Living room!”

He was sitting on the floor, with his back against the wall; he was wearing gray sweatpants and the same white shirt she stole from him, the one with a small lipstick stain on it. He looked tired.

“That was quite a show you put back there.” she said, walking down the stairs and wincing at the pressure and rough rubbing of the rope. “I’m impressed.”

“Are you?” he said, looking up, but not moving. “It’s been a while since my last show. I feel out of shape.”

“Well, you didn’t _look_ out of shape. You were terrific.” she said, sitting at the edge of a couch. “Very convincing. Very… Majestic.”

“I’m guessing I attracted some attention to you.” he said gloomily and she sighed and nodded. “I… Didn’t really think this thing through. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“It can wait for a few hours.” she said firmly. “For now, we’re safe. We’ll worry about everything in the morning. Night is supposed to be _our_ time. Gotham can wait.”

“It can.” he agreed lazily. “This thing, this grand return… Calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?”

He got up and started walking towards the kitchen.

“Wine’s chilled-”

“Get back here!” she called out distraught and he snickered.

“Don’t worry, I’m just messing with you. Wine can wait.” he said, turning around and returning to the living room. “I’m impressed you made it, by the way. You have an iron will.”

“And weeks of practice.” she muttered as he was getting her out of her dress; she sighed with relief as he cut through the rope. “I was going _crazy_.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” he said, picking her up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t worry. I’ll be nice this time.”

He lied, but she didn’t mind, she didn’t mind at all, as she whimpered and writhed and cussed and he laughed in her face and kissed her skin, washing Thomas Elliot’s gaze off, making her forget, making Gotham as a whole feel like a distant and unreal memory.

New chapter was beginning, and - as they lied in bed, drinking pink wine he stole and telling bad jokes and making grand plans - life felt good. Strange - but also wonderful.

In the distance, Gotham City kept on living; a pathologist was examining Joker’s corpse.

Esme returned home, shaken but unharmed; the nightmare was over. The question _why_ remained - but there was no way of answering it, with the Joker dead. _Parallel words,_ he said - and she wondered what he meant. Was there really a world where he was a part of her life? How did he even _remember_? _Who_ was he?

(But thanks to Penguin, all those questions would remain unsolved forever.)

In his mansion in Sommerset Thomas Elliot was sitting in front of a fireplace, lazily petting his dog, staring in space. He wondered if young miss Schiller-Aberdeen - beautiful, bright woman, a fine addition to Gotham’s colorful collection of citizens - knows his secrets, if she figured them out. She was obviously drawn to the dark and dangerous; he saw the way she looked at Penguin before he knocked him out. He wondered if Penguin already claimed her as his own, if the elusive terrorist had beaten him to it.

(There were a lot of secrets hidden in Sommerset, only visible to those who knew where to look.)

Gotham City kept on living and consequences kept on piling - but those could wait for another day.

***

Oswald had to leave Crest Hill, at least for the time being; his show at the fundraiser really did turn Charlie into a person of interest for the GCPD. Bullock and Louise bought them some time - not much, just enough for Oswald to disappear safely.

“I’ll be in touch.” he whispered before leaving, brushing her lips with his thumb. “Be good, watch the news, be careful.”

“Be safe.” she whispered back; and he left and she was alone, only with a very sad Pingu at her side.

She rearranged the items in her house - not much, just to create a convincing illusion of living alone - and went to the police station for the questioning.

Louise was waiting for her outside the front entrance.

“Is he gone?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Nobody will be searching your house - since you’re not a _suspect_ \- but it might be best for him to stay away for some time.” Louise said firmly. “You’ll be questioned by detective Sawyer, so be careful. She’s a good cop - in both meanings. She also has personal ties to Bruce Wayne and is biased against the Penguin. Watch. Your. Words.”

Louise hastily stepped away from Charlie, as they were approached by Thomas - who seemed to be perfectly fine, despite being knocked out the night before.

“Good morning!” he said warmly. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, I was just checking if everything’s alright.” Louise lied smoothly, not even looking in Charlie’s direction. “Last night… Was _rough_.”

“Oh, yes.” Thomas agreed, looking at Charlie. “That monster-”

“He didn’t do anything to me.” she interrupted him. “He just wanted me to see him out and ask me a few questions. And that’s it.”

“Yes, but I can only _imagine_ how it must have felt, being held at a gunpoint by _him_.” he said quietly. “A killer.”

“Well, he turned out to be a gentleman.” she sighed, thinking about how his lips felt on her skin after she called him an insufferable prick.

The questioning wasn’t long, because there wasn’t a lot she could possibly say - but detective Sawyer was watching her attentively. Luckily for Charlie, that was not the first time she was questioned - she was in control of her body language and mimics, but not _too_ in control.

“He asked me some questions.” she repeated. “But it was all just… General stuff. How do I like Gotham, if I know what happens to people who lie to him, he complimented my dress…”

“Did he ask you about Bruce Wayne?”

“No, he didn’t even mention Bruce.”

“Did he mention anyone at all?”

“He only mentioned the Joker. Said he was disappointed in how easy that was.”

“So he’s looking for a challenge.” Sawyer muttered, squinting. “Thank you, miss. You’re free to go.”

When leaving the room, Charlie bumped into a pale woman, taller than her; her short hair were the same shade of red as hers.

“Mags!” the woman said in a hushed voice, entering the room. “You’re not going to _believe_ what I’m about to tell you.”

“Katie, close the door.”

The woman called _Katie_ by detective Sawyer closed the door behind her; and Charlie turned around, facing Thomas, who was waiting for her outside.

“How are you, Charlie?”

“I’ve got nothing to complain about.” she said, brushing the hair away from her face. “But I definitely have to go home soon, I need to walk my pup before he marks my bed as _his_ again.”

“Let me accompany you.” he offered; and she agreed, not really knowing how to politely blow him off without discouraging him completely.

It felt odd, having him in her house; it felt odd, having him sit in Oswald’s favorite chair. It felt wrong, even though he looked at her the same; and Pingu seemed to share her opinion, judging from how he sneered and growled.

“Oh, come on, boy.” Charlie muttered. “Don’t be like that.”

Pingu kept looking around, like he was looking for something - or maybe someone. No matter how much she tried to calm him down - his attitude towards her guest seemed to be distrustful at best and hostile at worst. She took a note of it; she never fully believed in stories about animals being capable of reading people’s true intentions - but there had to be a seed of truth in them. Animals - especially domesticated dogs - are good at reading body language, at picking up scents too subtle for human sense of smell; maybe there was something in Thomas Elliot she simply had no means of seeing.

“So, Charlie, this invitation you received from me…” Thomas said as they were slowly walking down the alley in the nearby park. “Are you coming?”

“Yes.” she said calmly, her insides twisting and turning anxiously. “After last night… I definitely have to let off some steam.”

“Splendid!” he said joyfully. “Splendid. It’s a date then! Just… Keep it to yourself, alright? We’re a rather… Exclusive bunch.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” she said with a playful smile. “Should I wear a mask?”

“Yes.” he said very seriously. “It’s very thoughtful of you. I knew you’re a good candidate.”

He then did that one thing she hoped would never happen - he stole a kiss from her before turning around and walking away. The kiss didn’t make her feel _anything_ ; it was just a sensation of something warm touching her lips, it was impersonal, it felt nothing like the kisses Oswald would steal from her.

“Fuck.” she muttered, fishing her phone out of her pocket; she called Oswald - but his phone was turned off.

So instead she texted him. Multiple times.

 

_elliot just kissed me_  
he also sat in ur chair  
and i think pingu tried to bite him  
i want to either die or take a bath in holy water

 

He reached out to her in the evening; she could hear muffled voices in the background, and a very distinctive, raspy one she remembered hearing during the fundraiser, It belonged to one of his men; the one with impressive mutton chops.

“What do you mean _he kissed you_?!” Oswald asked right after she picked up.

“I wanted to ask him the same question, you know.” she muttered, yawning quietly; she was taking a bubble bath, trying to prepare herself for what’s to come. “But I have to act like I _like_ him. Oswald, what if he proposes to me?”

“Then I’ll crash the wedding, kidnap the bride and disappear forever.” he said and she laughed. “Hey, don’t laugh! Central Europe is a good place to disappear forever.”

“Good! Remember that plan, because I want to marry Elliot even less than I want to marry Bruce.”

“For their own sake I hope neither of them proposes. Although, in Bruce’s case…”

“Uh-oh.” she muttered, knowing what’s going to happen next. “You’re considering making me go black widow on him, aren’t you?”

“Something in your voice tells me you’re not on board with this particular idea of mine.”

“Well, yeah. That’s what happened between me and my husband, more or less.” she said, absentmindedly watching a rising bubble. “And I killed him for that.”

“But would it really be the same though? Big chunk of Bruce’s fortune comes from what his family stole from mine. Wayne Enterprises, for instance. Is stealing stolen property still immoral?”

“This is a trick question. If I say _no_ \- you’ll say _well what’s the problem!_ and if I say _yes_ \- you’ll say _which is precisely why it’s such a good idea_.”

“You’re reading my mind, love.” he said tenderly. “Also, I gotta go. But… The Penguin’s ready. Let me know how it goes with the Hush. I can make a public attack on Elliot, make him turn to you, spill his guts to you…”

“Mmmm.” she muttered, closing her eyes. “Yes. Good. I’ll let you know. Be safe.”

“You too, love.”

***

And eventually - came the night of the secret gathering Thomas invited her to. She wore a simple, black, pencil dress, a pair of heels and a perfectly featureless white mask; and Thomas greeted her with his face covered in bandages.

“How dramatic!” she said jokingly, trying to hide her rising anxiety as he lead her into the depths of his mansion.

The gathering turned out to be everything she expected it to be - meaning it was an absolute nightmare. Her theory was proven to be true; Thomas Elliot and his friends were taking great pleasure in causing pain and suffering to other people, in every way imaginable. And it was revolting - and she was grateful for her mask, which hid her horrified expression. They tried to dress it up in elegant words, flowery sentences, quotes from de Sade - but the truth was, it was a straight up torture club.

She somehow managed to avoid actively partaking in anything that was going on in the basement, claiming voyeurism is her cup of tea; if she added anything to that pile of misery and suffering and torment - she wouldn’t be able to look her own reflection in the eye. The events of that night were absolutely incomprehensible to her; but there was a certain newcomer rite of passage she could not avoid, not if she wanted to keep Elliot’s trust.

She had to embrace her own darkest fears and let go of them - and the master of the ceremony was the elusive Scarecrow himself.

The revelation that the master of fear has ties to the Hush wasn’t particularly shocking; but his very _presence_ \- that was an unwelcome revelation. In person, he looked and sounded monstrous; like a grotesque, animated mass of sticks and hayseed and thick, filthy burlap. His voice was distorted and sounded like multiple people speaking at once; and watching him, listening to him - she tried to imagine how did Lady Arkham feel when she woke up after her disastrous last stand with the Bat, only to realize she’s at the mercy of this deranged man.

As he injected her with his fear toxin, she remembered it’s based off the substance Vicki Vale came up with back in the day; a modified version of a drug used by Thomas Wayne, releasing the most hidden parts of one’s psyche.

“What do you see?” the Scarecrow asked her as she started to shake and desperately claw at her forearms with her own nails. “Speak!”

But she couldn’t speak; she could only scream.

***

She couldn’t remember how and when did she get home; but she woke up still fully clothed, in her own bed. Except for Pingu, there was no one else in the house; and the memories of the previous night made her want to curl up in a ball and cry her heart out - and she did just that.

Eventually, her phone rang; and thankfully it was Oswald. If it was anyone else - _especially_ Thomas Elliot - she’d probably just ignore it; but she desperately needed some comfort, an anchor.

“Hey.” she said quietly, sniffling.

“What happened?” he asked instantly. “Charlie?”

“Can I see you?” she asked faintly; for a moment there was silence.

“Yes.” he said eventually. “I’ll send one of my boys to get you. We have a lovely, rusty warehouse in the docks. Very… Atmospheric.”

She smiled palely, hearing his awkward attempt at joking; he was concerned, she could hear it.

She took a quick shower - just enough to make her feel a bit fresher - walked the dog and refilled his bowls.

“I’m sorry, little guy.” she said apologetically, kneeling next to him. “I know I’m kinda neglecting you recently. But once this is over… We’ll go to Florida and I’ll let you loose on a beach. How about that?”

Pingu wagged his tail and barked quietly; she sighed and scratched him behind his ear. Even though he was an accident - he was a very fuzzy, squishy accident. And very smart too; the knowing spark in his eyes always made her feel like the dog understands everything.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door; and when she opened - she saw a familiar man. He was with Penguin when he crashed the fundraiser; she sighed with relief at the sight of his mutton chops.

“You Charlie?” he asked; she nodded.

“The name’s Schulz.” he said, shaking her hand. “Firm handshake.” he stated, glancing at her pale hand. “You’re stronger than you look. Good.”

“Are you here to-”

“Take you to the Penguin?” he interrupted her. “Yes.”

They didn’t talk much, and she was grateful; she wasn’t in mood for a conversation.

The route to Penguin’s base of operation was a bit surprising; it turned out Schulz arrived by boat, rather than by land.

“Put it on.” he said, throwing her a lifejacket as they approached a very modest-looking motorboat moored by the forgotten pier.

“I can swim.”

“I don’t care.” he said, rolling his eyes. “Put it on.”

She put the jacket on and he nodded with approval; about forty minutes later they approached the - mostly derelict and abandoned - part of port Adams, located just on the outskirts of the Slavic Quarter.

Schulz led her to Penguin’s warehouse, where Oswald was waiting.

“Charlie!” he said, taking his mask off as she entered.

Suddenly there were tears in her eyes and she could barely breathe.

“Hug me.” she said, her voice breaking; and he did just that, embracing her tightly and silently motioning to Schulz to leave them alone.

“What happened?” Oswald finally asked as she stood there, tightly gripping the fabric of his jacket.

“I went to the Hush party.” she said, her face still hidden.

“Tell me about it.” he said softly; and she raised her head and looked him in the eye and told him about everything - about the kind of pain Elliot liked to cause, about the Scarecrow being involved, and about how he forced her to face her deepest, darkest fears.

“He gave me that fucking toxin.” she said tearfully and his grip around her tightened slightly. “Oswald, he… He tortures people. He breaks them, he marks them, he makes them scream… Oh god.” she whispered as the screams ringed in her ears. “I can still hear it.”

She started to tremble as she remembered, as she saw it again; the pain, the suffering, the twisted delight in Elliot’s eyes.

If it wasn’t for Oswald holding her, she’d fall onto her knees.

“Hey. Hey.” he said quietly, leading her to a nearby chair and helping her sit down. “Stay with me, alright? Stay with me.”

She took his tie into her shaking fingers and started to knead it between her fingers, trying to focus; it was silky and smooth and his hand on her arm was heavy like an anchor.

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Okay.” she eventually breathed out. “I’m… I’m here. I’m back.”

“This… This is bad.” he said quietly. “This is way worse than what Vale discovered before getting me to come back. I think… I think we’re in over our heads.”

She couldn’t believe her ears; Oswald, admitting defeat?

“What do you mean?” she asked faintly.

“Look at yourself!” he answered. “You’re falling apart after one night - and we still need to prove everything to Mask!”

“So… What are you suggesting?”

“Central Europe.”

“What? No!” she protested. “No!”

“Why, Charlie?” he asked, looking her in the eye. “What’s keeping you here?”

“I came here to build a life!” she said angrily, her voice breaking again. “I don’t want to run away, not again!”

“Well, then what do _you_ suggest?”

“We’re going to finish what we started.” she said angrily, pulling his tie. “You’re going to pay back Vicki’s fucking debt and you’re going to be _free_ and you’re going to be the king of this fucking eleventh season of _Supernatural_ of a city! No matter how many fucking Hush parties it’ll take for me to get evidence.” she continued, speaking louder and louder. “And you know what? I’m not going to stop at just handing Mask the evidence of their debtors being fucking _dead_. I’m going to get as close as possible to that rotten, twisted piece of scum Thomas Elliot and I’m going to _destroy him_. I’m going to do to him what he’s doing _to others_. And I can fall apart a few more times.” she said, angry tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can handle it! Because I know you’re there, to keep me from falling apart completely.” she practically sobbed out. “I don’t want to run away, not again! I’m tired of running, of searching! I just want a normal life, that’s all I ever wanted! I can take _you_ being on the run, I can hide, I can lie - just don’t make me run _again_! Because if you’ll leave… If you’ll leave - I’m staying behind.” she choked out. “Because I just want some fucking peace!”

Oswald sighed; and she kept staring him in the eye, even though her vision was so blurry she barely saw anything.

“That was impressive.” he eventually said. “Did you write it at home?”

“I’m serious!”

“I know, I’m trying to come up with an answer - but I can’t.” he admitted. “I… Fuck, I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sorry for getting you into this mess.”

“I got _myself_ into this mess.” she said, shaking her head. “So now I’m going to finish this. Just… Let me have this.”

“You know I can’t say _no_ to you when you look at me like this.” he said softly. “You just talked Penguin into doing the morally acceptable thing, I hope you’re aware of it.”

“What?” she asked, trying to connect the dots. “What?”

“You heard me! The Penguin is going to bring the Hush down.” Oswald declared, getting up. “My one last act of heroism, before finally going after Bruce Wayne and taking him down _for good_. And… I will not be alone. Come on. Follow me.”

She got up and followed him, as he went deeper into the warehouse.

“Forewarned is forearmed, darling dear.” he said, walking towards crates piled against a nearby wall. “I had a feeling you might end up with an intense urge to mess some unfortunate lad up - so I made some preparations. And look - I was right! Like always.” he added, glancing at her over his shoulder with a smirk and a wink.

Eventually, he pulled out a plain looking, rather big box; and she reached out for it, but he moved it out of her reach.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, patience! Now’s the time for _my_ grand speech… Or you know what?” he said suddenly. “Fuck grand speeches.”

Before she knew it, Oswald kneeled in front of her, holding the mysterious box.

“Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen.” he said softly, looking at her so lovingly she almost blushed. “I love you. Will you…”

He opened the box, revealing what’s inside.

It was a mask - shaped after the pinniped head, most definitely made by the same person who worked on his penguin ones; made out of identical materials, designed by the same hand.

“Will you be my partner in crime?” he asked softly; she carefully picked the mask up, touching its smooth, cool surface. It looked sturdy - made to endure everything Gotham could possibly throw at them.

“Yes.” she finally said, her heart beating so fast she was sure it’s going to jump out of her chest.

Oswald smirked and got up, throwing the empty box aside.

“Try it on.”

The mask fit her perfectly, and she absentmindedly wondered how and when did he manage to get those oddly specific measurements. He helped her with fixing the belts at the back and lightly tapped the hard surface with his fingertips.

“Comfortable?” he asked as she looked up.

“Yes.” she said, listening to her own voice; it sounded slightly squeaky and higher pitched than usual. “How are you going to call me? Seal?”

“I was thinking about Pinniped, actually.” he said. “Penguin and his Pinniped. Has a nice ring to it.”

“Yes.” she agreed, glancing at her reflection in a nearby, slightly dirty mirror; the mask looked and felt _right_. “Yes, it does.”

 


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the one where things get fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: human pet and abuse, also: charlie gets roofied in this one, though nothing happens.

About one week after the torture party at Elliot’s mansion Jonathan Crane’s assistant - Harleen Quinzel - disappeared without a trace; and Charlie found out when she was visited by the detectives assigned to the case.

In early morning hours, she was woken up by a doorbell and Pingu’s anxious barking; and when she opened the door - wrapped in a warm bathrobe, rubbing her eyes - she saw Harvey Bullock on her doorstep, accompanied by a dark haired woman Charlie had never met before; she had olive skin, piercing, dark eyes, beautiful, firm jawline and full lips.

“Detective Bullock.” Charlie said sleepily, taking her eyes off the woman. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Miss.” Bullock said with a nod, looking at her with thinly veiled concern in his eyes; it’s been a while since they last spoke, and she never told him about what she witnessed - but Louise did once tell her that Bullock always worries about something or someone. It was natural to him as breathing, after a decade spent in an on-and-off relationship with Fish Mooney. “This is detective Renee Montoya.” he added, motioning to the woman; she nodded and smiled. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Sure, come on in.” Charlie yawned out, stepping aside to let them in. “Pingu, sit!”

The dog obeyed, glancing lovingly at Bullock; they knew each other, and detective did buy the dog’s eternal friendship with a meatball sub once.

“Tea, coffee?” she asked, walking towards the kitchen. “I’ll be right with you, but I _desperately_ need some coffee.”

“I’m good.” Bullock said, staying behind; Montoya followed her.

“Do you happen to have carrot juice?” she asked; Charlie glanced at her over her shoulder, making herself a cup of instant coffee. Oswald detested that stuff, instead insisting on grinding his own beans; but she was fine with garbage, as long as it was doing its job.

“Sure.” she said, opening the fridge and pouring the detective a glass; she took it with a grateful nod.

“So.” Charlie said, returning to the living room with her coffee, followed by Montoya; Bullock was squatting on the floor, petting a delighted Pingu and got up after noticing they’re back. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly at the sight of the mug Charlie was holding; it was the one he gave to her through Louise. “What is it about?”

“Do you know Harleen Quinzel well?” Bullock asked,, watching her attentively.

“We spoke a few times.” Charlie said cautiously, sitting in her favorite chair; she motioned to the detectives and they sat down on a couch. “I met her at a party in new mayor’s honor, we went out for coffee once or twice… Actually we are supposed to meet today.” she remembered. “Very nice, pleasant girl. Asked me to answer a few questions for her phd thesis. Jonathan speaks very highly of her.” she added. “Which speaks volumes about her intelligence.”

“She had been reported missing.” Montoya said and Charlie sighed. “No one had seen or heard from her in a few days now, and her flat looks like someone was looking for something.”

“We reached out to her cell company.” Bullock added. “And her last call was with you.”

“Yes, she called me… Three days ago?” Charlie said hesitantly. “I think it was three. I can check.”

“There’s no need, we have it written down. What did she want?”

“She had some additional questions to my interview answers.”

“Her thesis… What’s the topic?”

“Something about loss.” Charlie said with a shrug. “Sorry, I don’t remember, but I’m sure Crane has it written down. He’s her promoter.”

“Uh-uh. Did she sound distressed? Anxious? Did she mention anyone or anything unusual?”

“No.” Charlie said, shaking her head. “She sounded… Normal. Maybe a bit tired, but she has plenty of work. She mentioned her partner.” Charlie suddenly remembered. “Pamela? Yeah, Pamela.”

“Yes, Pamela’s the person who reported Harleen’s disappearance.” Montoya said with a nod. “And… Is that all?”

“I’m afraid so, yeah.” Charlie said sadly. “We’re not close.”

“When and where are you two supposed to meet?”

“Gotham University cafeteria, at three. Do you think there’s a point in going? If she’s missing?”

“It won’t hurt.” Bullock said with a shrug. “We’ll be in touch. Do let us know if she shows up.”

“Can do.”

“We’ll see ourselves out. Come on, Montoya, next stop: good doctor Crane.”

They left, leaving concerned Charlie in the living room; she couldn’t think of any reason why would someone specifically want Harleen Quinzel gone. She seemed to be one of those people with no enemies; but Gotham was a dangerous city, with people going missing all the time. Human trafficking was a prominent problem; with mayor Hill and Falcone gone, it looked like the traffickers lost a lot of their power; but those who remained had to be resourceful and crafty in order to survive the storm Lady Arkham and Penguin brought upon the streets of Gotham.

As she predicted, Harleen didn’t show up; but she was approached by - uncharacteristically gloomy - Jonathan Crane.

“Good afternoon, Charlie.” he said with a sigh. “Can I join you?”

“I’m assuming you already heard about Harleen.” she said and he nodded, sighing sadly.

“Detectives Bullock and Montoya paid me a visit… This is terrible, Charlie.” Jonathan said, sounding pained. “Harleen is one of the brightest stars of Gotham - and I’m not talking about just her intellect. She’s compassionate, kind… This is a disaster.” he sighed. “The Joker might be gone, thanks to our very own homicidal sphenisciformes, but Gotham didn’t get any safer.”

“Yeah.” she said quietly, thinking about her encounter with the Scarecrow. “Doctor Crane, your specialty is fear, right?”

“That is right, yes. Phobias, traumas, resulting triggers - this is my specialty.” he nodded. “In fact, I recently gave a series of lectures in Quantico. They’re trying to figure the Scarecrow out.”

“And can you help someone… _Manage_ their fears?” she asked. “Deal with them, suppress them?”

“Let’s talk in my office.” he said, looking at her.

They went to his office; it was spacious and well-lit, its walls lined with completely filled bookshelves.

“Are you seeking out professional help, Charlie?” he asked after they sat down.

“Yes.” Charlie said, looking away and nervously playing with the fabric of her skirt. “I… Can’t give you any details, but I recently had… A really bad night. Some things came to my attention, and I realized… I realized there’s plenty of stuff I never worked through. I just ignored it instead.”

“I understand.” he said softly. “And you don’t need to tell me every single detail, but first I need you to understand… I’m your friend, Charlie. Was that… Situation… Related to our favorite flightless bird?”

“Kind of.” she sighed. “But it’s not his _fault_ , if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I see.” Crane said with a nod. “Alright, so… Let’s dive right in, shall we?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about your fears. And… Don’t be afraid.” he added with a light smile. “Everything you say here… Will remain between just the two of us.”

She took a deep breath and started talking - about the things she was terrified of. The idea of one morning waking up and finding out everything she went through had been for nothing. Having to abandon everything _again_. Harry happening again. Losing control and autonomy. Loneliness. She told him everything, every single fear, every single nightmare; and he listened, asking questions from time to time.

“And what about Oswald?” he asked eventually. “I know he is important to you and it’s very common for people who went through traumas to develop - and fixate on - fears centered around their loved ones.”

“Sometimes…” she said slowly. “Sometimes I still hear this quiet voice at the back of my head, saying… Saying Oswald’s with me just for the money. Just for the safety, just for the comfort…”

She paused for a moment, looking at a bookshelf to her left.

“He sometimes talks about his friends in the Slavic Quarter.” she eventually continued. “He says that in certain parts of it - he’d be completely safe. He could walk the streets, like a normal person - and no one would rat him out.”

Crane nodded silently.

“So I asked him - _then why won’t you operate from there?_ And he said… He said…”

Her voice cracked for a moment.

“He said _it's all a matter of my whims and whimsies. I fancy living in your luxurious house more than I fancy living in a dimly lit studio around there_.” she continued in a normal tone of voice. “He also said he fancies waking up next to me more than he fancies waking up alone, but…”

“But fears cannot be reasoned with.” Crane said, nodding. “In many cases, fears are very logical - yours, for example - but they can’t be reasoned with. Fear and anxiety exist on their own.”

“I’m also afraid of many normal things, regarding Oswald.” she said quietly. “His lifestyle is… Dangerous, especially now. I know he’s experienced, and can stand his ground, but… There can always be that one bullet he won’t dodge. A blade hidden in someone’s sleeve, a drop of poison in his drink… The thought of Oswald letting his guard down terrifies me, the thought of something slipping through his defenses. The thought of losing him. I’m generally not too fond of losing people, and if something happened to anyone from this weird social circle Salvatore pulled me into I’d be devastated - but Oswald? I don’t think I’d recover.” she confessed. “I’d skip town again, leave everything. Gotham would be even more dead to me than New York.”

“Do you think you’d… Live through it?”

“Maybe yes, maybe not.” she said hesitantly. “I don’t know. I can make up scenarios and possibilities all I want, but… I’d rather not learn the answer.”

They talked for a few hours; but eventually Crane’s phone buzzed, reminding him of a meeting in half an hour.

“I’ll very gladly work with you, Charlie.” he said, opening his elegant, leather bound calendar. “Next week, same time?”

“Works for me.”

She left his office feeling a bit lighter; Jonathan Crane heard a lot of things she never told anyone else - either because no one asked, or because she decided those fears will pass. But they didn’t; and Scarecrow’s toxin only brought them to the surface. Sometimes she could still hear her own scream; sometimes she could still pain in where her own nails nearly punctured her skin.

***

Oswald’s plan of how to deal with Thomas Elliot and the Hush was fairly simple; he was going to release the proofs of his financial involvement with Roman Sionis and Roman’s position as the Black Mask to the public, making people turn away from him - all while Charlie would be there, at Elliot’s side, making him believe she’s his peaceful island among the storm, making him confide in her. It was very straightforward, and - just like the Mask predicted - fit his established modus operandi; except this time it would not be about personal vendetta of two wronged, orphaned children. This time it would be a fight for dominance, a declaration of war against every Black Mask and their allies and accomplices.

“So, when are we gonna do it?”

“Oh, you’re going to love it.” he snickered. “Because I found us _the_ perfect occasion. Something big, medial, with lots of people to experience it first-hand… The mayoral debate is _nothing_ compared to the thing we’re going to crash.”

“Well, what is it?”

“We’re going to crash a Rammstein concert.” he announced joyfully. “You know I’ve got a penchant for theatrics.”

“You’re nuts.” she said with a wide smile. “Absolutely, completely nuts.”

“I’m going to top every single thing I’ve done with Vicki back in the day.” Oswald claimed. “Fuck killing the mayor, let’s kill the _president_. Who’s the president these days anyway? Is Obama still in the office?”

“Yeah, I voted for him.”

“Alright, then let’s kill a _foreign_ leader. Let’s kill… Putin. Or Farage.”

“You know I’m in, but maybe let’s deal with Elliot first. Pay off your debt, get Mask off your back… You know, I just realized something.” she added. “I have no idea what will happen if you _don’t_ do what she told you.”

“Nothing pleasant, that’s for sure.” he said, his face turning grim. “This Mask still has to prove herself, so I’m guessing… She’d kill you and make me watch. That’s just off the top of my head. Maybe she’d chop off my limbs and make me eat them. Maybe both things at the same time. Lots of possibilities, none of pleasant.”

“Aww, would my death really mean that much to you?”

“I thought I made it rather clear.” he said, looking at her with concern. “Of course it would. What, do you want me to be even _more_ exuberant in my confessions?”

“No!” she said hastily; but it was already too late, for he was walking up to her, and before she knew it - he was peppering her face and neck with kisses, all while delivering the most theatrical, over the top declarations of love she ever heard him say. It made her feel pleasant warmth in her stomach.

Eventually the big night had come; and everything was ready. Penguin got his hands on blueprints and timetables, and secured them a way out; apparently he had struck a deal with his old rival, Kōunji. He gave him old territory, along with his contacts and suppliers - in exchange for goods and a ride home once their show comes to an end.

“Essex had been a no man’s land since I left. Ripe for the picking - but no one was brave enough, because apparently everyone thinks I’m going to come back. And I’m _not_ planning on returning, not anytime soon.”

“What if you do go back though? What then?”

“I dealt with Kōunji once, I know his tricks.” Oswald said with a shrug. “He’s old, rarely does anything new… I can handle taking care of him for a second time.”

So, the evening had came and she was _ready_ ; Schulz showed up at her doorstep to take her to Penguin’s base of operations.

He looked puzzled when she opened the door.

“What?” she asked defensively as he was staring at her.

“I only now realized this whole thing has a strict dress code.” he said raspily as they were walking towards his boat; for now she was wearing plain sneakers, holding her studded pumps in hand.

“Of course it does, Penguin is _very_ committed to his aesthetic.”

“He sure is.”

Oswald greeted her with open arms.

“Everything’s ready to go.” he said cheerfully as she was changing her shoes. “And you look _beautiful_ , as always.”

“You think?” she asked, smoothing her dress down; black, with a circle skirt, a Queen Ann neckline and a sewn-in bra.

“Oh, absolutely. Archie!” he called out to someone over his shoulder. “Come here.”

Another man approached them, another one she recognized from the fundraiser crash; he had a black sidecut, dark circles under his eyes and lips twisted in a sour expression.

“Well, shit, boss.” he said, briefly glancing at Charlie. “You were right. She _does_ look like Val.”

“Who’s Val?” Charlie asked, feeling disoriented; but Oswald only waved his hand.

“Nobody you should be concerned with tonight! All in due time, love, all in due time. Now… Take a look around, try to make some new friends. We still have some time.”

She took a walk around the warehouse, but didn’t really talk to Penguin’s men - they kept looking away from her, their conversations dying as soon as they saw her. She felt like an intruder; at least until she bumped into a man dressed up in all green, his face covered with a hood and an emerald mask.

“Sorry.” she muttered, glancing briefly at him; he shot her a wide grin and she recognized him immediately.

“Oh my gosh!” she said. “E-”

“It’s Riddler.” he interrupted her hastily before she said his name out loud. “But yeah, it’s me. We’ve met a few times. Been a while since I last saw you!”

Eddie Nygma was an IT guy at Wayne Enterprises - he was also Maroni’s tech specialist, responsible for securing the communications of his inner circle. He was also dating Jacques, the grumpy owner of the Peperoncino; he was a nice guy, but didn’t really have plenty of time to be social.

As it turned out - he was also the Riddler, an elusive hacker for hire, who had been stealing secrets small and big for months. His calling card was a question mark; and his quirk were riddles he’d leave woven into the code of secrets he stole.

“So you’re going with us?” she asked; but he shook his head.

“No, I’m going to be operating from here, I’m useless in the field. On Penguin’s mark I’m going to use the screens at the stadium to broadcast evidence against Elliot. Piece of cake, really - network there is barely protected at all.” he said with a shrug. “In fact, I’m already in. I just need you guys to make sure no one pulls the plug.”

“And this is going to be Richt’s job.” passing-by Oswald chimed in, pointing at a blonde man with a mohawk. “He used to work in Silicon Valley. Got kicked out for… Oi, Richt!” he called out. “Why did you get kicked out of your last job again?!”

“Corporate espionage. I was a triple agent.”

“See? Smart boy.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see _you_ here.” Eddie added after Oswald walked away. “I thought you’re supposed to stay away from Penguin’s business.”

“Change of plans.” she said shortly. “You look good in green, by the way.”

“Right? Jacques says the same exact thing.”

Eventually it was time for them to move on and start the show; they geared up - Oswald again helped her with her mask - and split up.

“We rendez-vous in forty, in the alley at the back of Giordano.” Penguin instructed everyone. “There’s a tunnel there, leading to stadium’s maintenance zone. We go in, we take over. You can be rowdy, you can stuff your pockets, just don’t get distracted. And let’s minimize the bloodshed.”

Before they entered the tunnel, Oswald stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m not going to be calling you by your name.” he said as his men were passing them. “You can call me Oswald, everyone knows I’m Oswald Cobblepot - but you’re a secret. For nights like this, your name is Cherry.”

“Cherry.” she repeated. “Alright. It fits me.”

“Good. Now let’s go, we have a message to send.”

It went smoothly - the security wasn’t prepared for Penguin’s sudden arrival. His men covered all the exits - and it was time for Penguin and Pinniped to begin their own show.

“Ah, _Du Hast_.” Penguin said, listening to slightly muffled music coming from the stage. “Rammstein is the music of my youth, did you know that?”

“That actually explains a lot.”

“Right?”

That was a night to remember - Penguin suddenly storming the stage, stopping the music, all eyes on him and Gotham’s newest oddity at his side.

“Is this thing on?” he said, after getting his hands on a microphone. “Oh, it is! Good _evening_ , good people of Gotham! Did you miss me?”

“Maybe a bit!” someone from the audience yelled back and Oswald laughed.

“That’s not good enough for me!” he declared. “After tonight - you’re going to _love_ me. But first - an introduction!”

He motioned to Charlie to come closer and she did, walking past the band members held at a gunpoint by Penguin’s men.

“Just like the last time - I am not alone!” Penguin declared, pointing at her. “Say, people of Gotham - isn’t my Cherry lovely?”

“I like her shoes!” someone yelled back, and Charlie took the microphone from Oswald.

“Thank you!” she said cheerfully. “So, tonight me and Penguin have a _very_ special announcement for you, people of Gotham. A sign of good will! A proof of how much we _care_.”

“The Penguin had returned, to once again kill your heroes!” Penguin chimed in, taking the microphone back. “People you trusted, people you adored… They don’t care about you. They don’t see you as human.”

She saw him slide his hand into his pocket; and moments later all the screens around the stadium began to broadcast the contents of the flash drive Oswald got from Mask - journal entries, bank records, confidential documents.

“Don’t worry if you can’t process it, my friend just put it online anyway.” Oswald said carelessly. “But what you see here, right in front of your eyes - are the proofs of Roman Sionis being the Black Mask. But that’s not all! See, Roman Sionis had been selling Mask’s debtors to his friend for _years._ ”

He threw the mic to Charlie; and she caught it.

“Thomas Elliot.” she said, feeling nauseous. “The good doctor, Gotham’s most beloved surgeon…”

And they went on, telling the story of Elliot’s arrangement with Roman Sionis - but their show was cut short when police arrived, accompanied by the Bat. Luckily Kōunji kept his word and their ride home arrived just in time - and it was a helicopter.

“My god, you _really_ live for the drama.” Charlie sighed as Oswald hopped onto the rope ladder.

“Yes I do!” he said cheerfully; he turned around holding the wooden rung with one hand, extending the other one to Charlie. She took his hand gracefully and lifted her leg, ready to hop on-

but she never did, because in that moment Batman grabbed her and pulled her down.

“OSWALD!” she screamed, struggling to get free out of Bat’s clutches; but to no avail.

“Cherry!” he yelled; for a moment he looked like he’s about to jump down - but he couldn’t. The helicopter started to hover higher and higher as the Bat grabbed her, and if Oswald jumped down from this height - he’d break his legs without a doubt. “Let her go, you flying pest!”

Instead of saying anything, Batman only turned around and walked away, dragging Charlie with him; she kept screaming and pummeling him with her fists until they were bruised from his armor.

He threw her into an empty room; she fell onto the cold floor with a pained whimper, scraping her knees and elbows.

_I'm going to fucking crush Bruce Wayne if Batman as much as lays a single finger on you._

“You’re a real fucking gentleman, aren’t you?” she said mockingly as Batman was locking the door behind them. “Is that how you treat every lady you meet?”

“You lost your status of a lady the moment you eloped with Oswald Cobblepot.” Batman replied, turning around to face her; in the dim light he looked menacing and imposing, the yellow eyes of his masks glowing like the deadliest will-o’-wisps. “Is that why you came to Gotham, Schiller-Aberdeen? To become a criminal?”

“I don’t know any Schiller-Aberdeen.” she said faintly; and he walked up to her.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” he snarled, kneeling down in front of her; she tried to push him away, but he only grabbed her wrists and squeezed them tightly, so hard she felt like her bones are about to break. “Take your mask off.”

“No.”

And he did it for her; he ripped her mask off her head and it fell onto the ground and she sat there, staring at him, her eyes burning with hatred.

“Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen.” the Batman said. “How the mighty have fallen.”

“Fuck you.”

“You spent two years trying to find a con artist who stole your fortune, trying to avenge your parents… Only to turn into _this_.” he continued, ignoring what she said. “Only to join forces with the Penguin.”

“You don’t know _anything_ about him!” she snapped.

“He killed people!” Batman said angrily. “Tried to take over the city, he hurt the innocent! And you’re _defending_ him. Why?”

“Figure it out, world’s greatest detective!”

He raised his hand, as if to hit her; she forced herself not to flinch.

“Watch it.” she said mockingly, hiding her anxiety deep, deep inside of her. “Oswald knows Wayne is working with you. If you touch me one more time… He’ll go after Bruce _again_. And you wouldn’t want that, now would you?”

“You can’t blackmail me.”

“I sure as hell can try.”

“Why are you working with him?” Batman asked again. “What did he offer you?”

“Nothing!” she replied, feeling almost amused by how blind the masked vigilante was. “That’s the thing about me, Bats. He didn’t offer me anything. _I_ offered him my help. Do you know why?”

Batman didn’t say anything.

“Because I _love_ him.” she said. “That’s right. Gotham’s newest socialite fell for the Penguin.”

“But _why_?”

“Because one’s heart wants what it wants and love cannot be compelled.” she said with a shrug. “That’s not how love works, Bat. You don’t love someone because of something or despite something, you love them… Just _because_.”

They talked for a while; he didn’t lay a single finger on her - but he asked her a lot of questions. About Penguin’s plans, about his declaration of war against Thomas Elliot, about Elliot himself. And she gave him answers - mostly lies or half-truths, desperate to keep her crusade her own.

Eventually the Bat stood up.

“You claim you love him.” he said, staring at her. “But do you say that about Oswald, or about the Penguin?”

“They are one and the same, Bats.” she said, shaking her head. “But no matter what name he goes by… I love him.”

“Let’s make a deal.” he said eventually, after a long pause. “You claim you love him. You claim you’re seeing something _good_ in him, hidden somewhere under all that rot. Prove it.”

“Prove… How?”

“Make him turn his life around. Make him act upon that tiny spark of good you claim is hidden inside him.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll come after both of you - and it will be the end of your gripping story.”

He looked at her in silence; eventually he reached out to her and she looked at his extended hand, at his gloved fingers. She considered her options; there wasn’t a lot of them - and frankly, she’d say and do anything just to get out. She could lie; just as long as it meant she’ll get a chance to get to Oswald and figure this mess out.

“Deal.” she eventually said, taking his hand; he helped her up and she picked up her mask, wincing slightly at the pain coming from her scraped knees.

“I’m going to hold you to your word.”

He unlocked the door and left; and when a minute later she left the room as well - he was gone.

The stadium was completely empty; she left it through the same tunnel they used to get in. As she stepped outside - unsure of how is she going to get home - someone threw a bag over her head.

“NO!” she screamed desperately, wondering who is trying to kidnap her this time. “Let go of me!”

“You’re coming with me!” she heard a voice; it was distorted and sharp. Whoever assaulted her cuffed her wrists behind her back; and she tried to elbow them in the chest, but her scraped elbow hit against a firm breastplate and she yelped out in pain.

But suddenly, the mysterious attacker let her go, pushing her onto the ground; she heard sounds of a struggle, followed by a gunshot and after a few minutes - someone helped her sit up, taking the bag off her head.

It was Archie, one of Penguin’s men she met back at the warehouse; he seemed fine, except for a few bruises here and there.

“Thanks.” she breathed out. “What… What just happened?”

“Skua.” he said shortly, looking at her attentively. “You alright?”

“I guess.” she muttered, trying to wiggle out of the handcuffs; but to no avail. “Can you get me out of those?”

“She took the key.” Archie admitted. “But my car’s hidden nearby. I’ll take you to the boss, we have some bolt cutters and lockpicks there.”

“Fine.” she sighed; he helped her up and picked her mask up. “Wait. Did he send you?”

“He sent out a few of us to search the area for you, yeah.”

“Oh.” she said, feeling butterflies in her stomach. “Did… Did everyone make it?”

“Somehow, yeah.” Archie said with a shrug.

He helped her get into a car parked nearby, and - before starting the engine - called someone.

“I got her.” he said. “She’s in one piece. We’re on our way now.”

Oswald was waiting in the base, looking restless and anxious; he was lounging on the sofa when they came in, Archie holding the door open for her.

“Hey, honey.” Charlie said. “Missed me?”

He instantly jumped off the couch and walked up to her.

“Oh thank god!” he said, his eyes sparkling with relief. “Are you alright?”

“Mostly.” she said, turning around and showing him the handcuffs. “Can you take them off?”

“What _happened_?” he asked after pulling out a lockpick.

“A lot of things, in rapid succession.” she sighed; the lock clicked and the handcuffs came off, falling onto the ground. “First the Batman got me, hence the bruises. He let me go. And then…”

“Skua was waiting for her.” Archie added. “Sneaky bitch. I put a bullet in her.”

“And _this_ is why _you’re_ my right hand man, Tennyson.”

He sat her down and kneeled down next to her, with some gauze, bandages and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“I feel bad about leaving you behind, you know.” he muttered, cleaning her scratches.

“Well, don’t. There was nothing you could do.” she said, wincing at the stinging, burning sensation. “I’m in one piece, yes?”

“What did Bats want from you?”

“The hottest gossip.” she said; he looked up at her, raising his eyebrows. “He asked a lot of questions. About you, your plans, what do I see in you…”

“Did he unmask you?”

“‘Course he did.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“He made a deal with me.” she said carefully; Oswald froze in place. “He wants me… Well, this is going to sound stupid.”

“You’re talking to a guy who calls himself _the Penguin_. Nothing you say can be worse.”

“He wants me to turn you into a decent person. He thinks I’m up for the challenge, because I repeatedly told him I love you.”

Oswald didn’t say anything, instead only looking up at her with a puzzling look in his eyes.

“What?” she finally asked. “Look, I had to say _something_. Ever been in a tiny room with Batman? Silence’s not the most comfortable of options.”

“I’m just very glad you’re in a one piece.” he said finally, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly. “And I’m going to keep my promise, about what’s going to happen to Bruce if Batman hurts you.”

“So about that deal I made with Batman-”

“We’ll figure it out.” he interrupted her. “Look, I get it. You said what you had to say in order to get out of an ugly situation. I did the same _plenty_ of times, that’s how I got the position at Wayne Enterprises. No harm done. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He kissed her, and she forgot about what did she want to say; suddenly she realized it’s been a while since their last kiss, their last night together.

“Don’t kiss me.” she whispered. “I’m going to get indecent and embarrass myself in front of everyone.”

“I know you told me to stay away from Crest Hill.” he said quietly, brushing her lips with his thumb, playful spark in his eyes. “But it’s been a while, and you’re going to need someone to help you out with bandages…”

“Come over.” she said instantly. “Pingu misses you.”

“It’s a deal. Schulz!” he called out, standing up and turning around. “Take the lady home.”

“See you later?” she asked before leaving; he nodded.

He snuck into her home later that night, and she was waiting for him; and Pingu greeted him with enthusiasm.

“Oh my goodness!” Oswald exclaimed, kneeling down next to the overjoyed dog who instantly stood on his back legs, put his front paws on Oswald’s shoulders and covered his face in dog kisses. “You’re so big now! Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy! You! You are!”

He was vigorously petting the dog, gently pulling the fur of his squishy cheeks; and Charlie watched, leaning against the door frame. Suddenly she remembered what she wanted to say before he interrupted her with a kiss; but it wasn’t important anymore.

(He wasn’t as bad as everyone thought he is anyway.)

Finally he turned his attention to her; and it was a pleasant night, even though she made him wash his face twice after he was done with Pingu. She missed him, and it was obvious he missed her as well; and she told him she loves him plenty of times that night, as he was peppering her skin with kisses and leaving bitemarks on her body and spreading her legs. He was gentle with her that night, and her hands roamed his body freely and she caressed his scars and kissed his hands as he showed her his love, over and over again.

***

The next day they were woken up by a doorbell; Charlie’s eyes snapped open as she jumped out of bed.

“Relax.” Oswald yawned. “It’s probably Archie.”

“But what if it’s _not_ Archie? You can’t be seen here!”

Oswald groaned and reached for his phone; he put it to his ear.

“Tennyson.” he said after a few moments. “Is that you outside? Told you it’s him.” he added after hanging up. “Let him in, would you? I’ll be right with you.”

She put her bathrobe on and went downstairs; indeed, Archie was there - accompanied by a red haired woman who was Charlie’s height. Her features were sharper than those of Charlie’s, her eyes were dark brown rather than deep blue and there were no freckles on her face; but the resemblance was still peculiar.

“Holy fuck, Arch.” the woman said after seeing Charlie. “You weren’t joking.”

“Of course I wasn’t, I _never_ joke.” Archie said tiredly. “Morning, Charlie.”

“Morning, Archie.” she replied, still staring at the woman. “I’m sorry, but… Is this a cloning experiment gone slightly wrong?”

“I could ask you the same exact question, babydoll.” the woman replied with amusement. “Mind if we come in? It’s kinda chilly.”

“Oh, sure!” she said, stepping aside. “Come on in. Tea, coffee, breakfast?”

“We’re good.” Archie said, coming inside and looking around. “So _this_ is where boss was holed in before he got that warehouse. Fancy.”

In the background, the mysterious woman was melting over Pingu; finally Oswald went down the stairs, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Morning, Tennyson.” he said, scratching his thigh through the gray fabric of his sweatpants. “Morning, Val.”

“Morning, Cobblepot.” the woman named Val said, looking up for a moment. “You’re looking good.” she added.

“That’s my normal state.” he yawned in response. “Charlie, darling, do you have eggs? After last night I am _starving_.”

“In the fridge. And once you’re not dying of starvation… Care to explain what’s going on?”

“I can do it as I fix my problem.”

She followed him into the kitchen, where he began to work his magic.

“You might have noticed, there’s some peculiar resemblance between you and Val.” he stated, cracking the eggs. “Same height, same hair color, same body type… Now. The Batman knows your identity - but people of Gotham _don’t_. And do you know what’s the best way to trick people into thinking you’re not your secret identity?”

“Not really, no.”

“You have to be seen in the same room as your secret identity.” he revealed, chopping up scallions. “Charlie and the Pinniped, face to face. And this… This is where Val comes in.”

“I’m an actress.” Val said, walking into the kitchen. “I work under a stage name, to not attract any attention to my baby brother over there.” she added, pointing towards Archie. “Darling Yorick, at your service.”

“The person we need the most to be convinced about the fact you’re in fact not the Pinniped is Elliot.” Oswald added, turning on the heat. “Meaning next time he invites you to his little Cirque du Souffrance, or asks you to accompany him somewhere - we’ll come along as well, me and Val.”

“I just need to study you a bit.” Val said with a shrug. “Especially as the Pinniped. You know - the way you walk, the way you form sentences, hand movements… Those things. You don’t need to spill your guts to me, I don’t need to go all Stanislavski.”

“Alright.” Charlie said slowly. “I don’t have my mask on me though-”

“It’s in the car.” Val interrupted her. “We stopped by the warehouse, and Richt fixed the straps. I’m good to learn, whenever you’re ready.”

“And I’ll be going soon.” Oswald added. “Charlie, let me know as soon as Elliot reaches out to you. Val… We’ll send out Schulz to get you later today.”

“Ugh.” Val groaned. “I _hate_ Schulz, he’s gross.”

“And competent.” Oswald stated firmly. “He’s also practically your family, isn’t he?”

“He is.” she sighed. “But he and Archie are putting the wedding off for now. They’re a thing.” she added, looking at Charlie. “Of course out of all the men in all of Gotham my brother had to pick the one who thinks _Daredevil_ is a comedy.”

Oswald and Archie left, and Val and Charlie were left alone - and the aspiring actress began to learn Charlie’s mannerisms from her.

“Alright.” she said after a few hours. “I think I’m getting a grasp of how you act as the Pinniped. Can we do it again tomorrow? I don’t want to accidentally blow anything for Cobblepot.”

“Sure.” she said, handing her the mask. “Can you put it on? I want to get used to looking at myself.”

After Val put her mask on, she looked exactly like Charlie; and after she slightly changed her pose - she looked like a perfect reflection.

“Holy shit.” Charlie muttered, feeling impressed. “That’s… Wow.”

“Right? Beats having a twin!”

***

The next thing Charlie was supposed to attend with Elliot was set to happen next week; somehow Thomas didn’t seem to be too affected by the storm the Penguin brought to Gotham - and the media didn’t seem to care.

“Cobblepot’s a crook.” Thomas stated. “A liar. The things he brought into light last time were all discovered by Vicki Vale - and _everyone_ knows how thirsty for power and attention this man is. No one’s going to take him seriously, so… I’d say my secret’s safe - precisely thanks to Cobblepot exposing it.”

“I hope so.” Charlie sighed in response. “I’d hate for this to come to an abrupt end.”

“Ah, I’m so, so very glad to hear it, darling. I knew you’d make a fine addition to our circle.”

So she braced herself for another tense night. Everything was ready; and during those few days, Val - or rather Darling, as she asked Charlie to call her - mastered the art of pretending to be Charlie disguised as the Pinniped. It wasn’t overly complicated, considering people of Gotham only saw the Pinniped once; the most crucial part was faking the affection between her and the Penguin.

“It should be easy.” Oswald stated. “We’re both wearing masks. I can just look at you when talking to her, and she… She can close her eyes and pretend I’m Samira Wiley.”

“Oswald, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for quite some time now.”

“And I’m all ears.”

“How comes all the people you surround yourself with are gay, one way or another?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Have you noticed?”

“Of course I’ve noticed, Louise had been calling me _her token straight friend_ for a couple of months now… Even though I’m not straight.” he added. “But when you put it like this… It is funny. I guess it’s because gayness often does come with a certain level of immorality.”

“Are you implying all gay people are evil?”

“Evil? No. Willing to talk out loud about being fisted by the Mothman or calling Sasquatch _daddy_? By all means.”

And the evening came; another night, another fundraiser. Thomas Elliot was the perfect, charming gentleman; but she had to stop herself from shuddering every time he touched her, now that she knew what are his hands capable of. His hand on her waist felt wrong and bad; but she couldn’t do anything about it. All she could do was to smile and pretend she’s in love. Even the way he looked at her made her feel dirty; and she realized soon there might come a day when in order to keep the act up she’ll have to give in to his subtle advances.

It was not at all a pleasant thought and she quietly sighed with relief when Penguin and his motley crew barged in under the guise of a robbery. Darling did a terrific job as the Pinniped; it felt almost like looking in the mirror, as Charlie tracked her every movement with her eyes, her every gesture.

Louise was present, and she seemed confused to say the least; as the Penguin was leaving she used the temporary turmoil to pull Charlie to the side.

“What, pray tell, is going on?” she whispered sharply, and Charlie squirmed nervously.

“It’s a long story.” she eventually said and Louise rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, no shit! You listen to me now, and better listen closely. If you two want my help-” she said coldly, but paused as Elliot interrupted them, holding two glasses of champagne.

“What a pest!” he declared, handing one to Charlie; as she took a sip she noticed an uncharacteristic, sweet, slightly minty note among the acidulous, fruity tones.

“Thank you, darling.” she said with a smile, setting her glass down. “But I think it’s time for me to fix a few things about my face.”

“You look absolutely perfect, as usual.” Elliot assured her hastily; but she walked past him with a polite smile on her face, slightly nodding to Louise to accompany her.

She understood.

“I think Elliot just roofied me.” she said quietly as they were walking towards the ladies’ room.

“What?” Louise asked sharply. “That son of a-”

“Act normal!” she said hastily. “Lou, I need you to trust me.”

“Alright.” Louise breathed out. “What now?”

“Keep an eye on me.” Charlie asked as they entered the bathroom. “Don’t let him do anything to me.”

“Alright, I can do that. But…” Louise said slowly. “What is going _on_?”

“I’ll tell you, soon.” she said quietly; other women entered the bathroom, chatting and laughing. “I promise I’ll explain everything to you. But tonight… Just keep an eye on me. Alright?”

“Fine!” Louise agreed reluctantly. “But I swear, if you won’t tell me what is going on-”

“I will!” Charlie interrupted her. “Just… Not tonight.”

They returned to the party, and Charlie’s suspicions turned out to be true - there definitely was something in her champagne, something making everything blurry and turning her thoughts into a fog.

Eventually, everything went dark.

***

“Morning, sunshine.”

She woke up in her own bed, with a headache - but in one piece. Louise was sitting in a chair next to the bed; as she was slowly sitting up, Charlie noticed someone took her dress and underwear off and dressed her up in her pajamas.

“Slow down.” Louise stopped her, handing her a glass. “Here. Some magnesium.”

“Thanks.” Charlie muttered, taking a sip. “So. What happened after I passed out?”

“Elliot declared he’s going to take you home.” Louise said with a shrug. “And I said I’ll come along, because I was at your place plenty times and know where all your stuff is. And guess what? He wasn’t happy to hear it!”

Charlie winced, setting the empty glass down.

“And I very firmly refused to leave him alone with you.” Louise added. “Eventually he fucked off, claiming he has to feed his dog, since apparently she refuses to take food from anyone who’s not him. So… Nothing happened.”

“Thanks, Lou.” Charlie said with utmost gratitude. “I owe you one.”

But Louise only waved her hand.

“You don’t.” she said. “First - you got Crane for me when Vicki passed out in my flat. Second - nobody owes me anything for doing morally decent things from time to time. I told you Oswald loves you, I got you into this relationship… Consider this an apology.”

The corners of her lips were twitching slightly; and Charlie smiled palely.

“Thank you.” she repeated. “Who changed my clothes?”

“I did.” Louise replied. “I figured you might want to avoid having him touch you at all.”

“And you were right.”

“So. Can you _now_ tell me what’s going on?”

“I’d love to.” Charlie said after a long pause, looking away. “But… I can’t. Not yet.”

“Charlie.” Louise said quietly. “Is everything alright?”

“No.” Charlie practically whispered back. “But I’m managing. It’s… It’s complicated, but I think It’s going to be over soon.”

“Can you at least talk to Crane? He’s good at putting minds at ease.”

“I’m already doing that, actually. I see him from time to time, talk about my fears, he helps me rationalize with them… He’s good.”

“He is.” Louise nodded. “Oh! Speaking of Crane… You’ll never guess who resurfaced when you were out.”

“Who?”

“Quinzel!” Louise announced. “Or at least someone _strikingly_ similar to her.”

“What?!” Charlie asked, her eyes widening in surprise; to which Louise pulled out her phone and showed her a news report.

That night, the Scarecrow resurfaced - and Charlie shuddered at the thought of what his toxin made her face. Shortly after he showed up, someone else entered the scene - a young woman, her face covered with the hood of her red hoodie and a black arlecchino mask, her cheeks framed with loose strands of blonde hair. She was wielding a baseball bat; and even though her face was covered, her posture and voice bore a striking resemblance to Harleen, Crane’s missing assistant.

“She introduces herself as _Harley Quinn_.” Louise said as Charlie was reading. “And god knows why, but she’s _very_ determined to take Scarecrow down.”

“Good.” Charlie muttered, zooming in on a photo of Harley; her red hoodie looked very familiar, like she saw this exact piece of clothing somewhere before - but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Speaking of Scarecrow… How’s Vicki?”

“She’s getting better.” Louise sighed. “Javert keeps her company during the day.”

“J-Javert?”

“My cat.”

“Ah. Right.”

“But anyway. The only problem is… Vicki is _stuck_ there.” Louise said, looking away. “She says she absolutely doesn’t plan to return to Lady Arkham, not after what Scarecrow did to her… But she can’t walk the streets as herself either. Oswald is at least _doing_ something - Vicki sort of just… Exists.”

“Cosmetic surgery?” Charlie suggested; but Louise shook her head.

“I already suggested it, and she refused! It’s almost like… She doesn’t _want_ her situation to change. Like she’s content with just _existing._ ”

“I have a wild theory.” Charlie said after a brief pause. “She is. She is content with existing.”

“...what do you mean?”

“Louise, please, connect the dots. She came to _you_ of all people - her ex girlfriend. There’s a reason for that, and this reason… Is pretty obvious.”

“But even if that’s the cause, even if she still has feelings for me… That doesn’t solve _anything_. I can’t be in a relationship with her!”

“So it’s mutual.” Charlie said softly and Louise’s face turned red. “Admit it, Lou. You said it yourself - you said some things you wanted to take back, but never got a chance.”

“Yeah, I did.” Louise muttered. “I… Fuck, you’re right. I still have feelings for her.” Louise finally admitted with a deep sigh. “Charlie, what should I do?”

“I don’t know.” Charlie admitted. “Me and Oswald, we… Kind of live from day to day. We don’t have plans for the future, because the future might never come. I don’t know how to help you, Lou. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright.” Louise said, getting up. “You take care now. Eat some fruit. And maybe take a shower.”

“Will do.”

***

The next day Elliot invited Charlie over for tea - and she accepted the invitation, pretending she doesn’t know about the drug he slipped into her drink. She only told Louise.

“If I don’t let you know I’m fine by six… Get Oswald. Tell him what happened.”

“Sure. Do you want me to tell him you love him?”

“He knows that.”

So she dressed up, and drove to Elliot’s mansion in Sommerset, her insides twisting and turning at the thought of spending the afternoon with him, after he roofied her, most likely with an intention to rape her. At that point, she was anything but sure of what are the exact specifics of her relationship with him; the one thing she was was certain of was the fact she’d love to put it all behind her as soon as possible.

He didn’t even mention her passing out during the fundraiser; as if he didn’t have anything to do with it, as if he wasn’t the person who drugged her. They drank tea, and talked a bit; and she didn’t react when his hand was on her knee and when he began to slid it higher, and when his other arm was wrapped around her.

The truth is - she didn’t do anything, because she was mortified. It wasn’t the first time something like this was happening - but it was the first time when she knew shoving him away would definitely make things worse. Besides, during the course of their “relationship” she constantly allowed him to believe she’s interested in him; that was the whole point. She needed his trust - but the thought of his lips on her naked skin almost made her shudder with disgust. If she pushed him away, if she ran away - it would ruin everything.

Thankfully someone had mercy on her soul, someone who’s been watching her this entire time during her every visit to the mansion; someone whose humanity had been stripped away from them - but who regained just the tiniest bit of it, just enough to intervene.

When Charlie briefly glanced over Elliot’s shoulder, she froze in place, her brain desperately attempting to comprehend what was going on. They weren’t alone in the room anymore; they were joined by-

“Ella!” Elliot said sharply; after noticing Charlie’s sudden stiffness he turned around to look in the same direction. “What are you doing here?!”

On the floor near the couch there was a young, naked woman, walking on all fours. She was pale, and skeletally thin; and her hair were red, so very red. It was the same shade of red as Charlie’s hair; intense, vibrant, eye catching.

The woman had a collar around her neck, and bruises all over her body. She briefly glanced at paralyzed Charlie, before looking at - uncharacteristically moved - Elliot.

She opened her mouth; but instead of saying anything - she only whined quietly, like a dog. And Charlie sat there, completely motionless, her eyes fixed on the woman, and her bruised skin and her collar; and suddenly she remembered what Fish Mooney told her one day, when she was asking her for advice regarding handcuffs.

_Beautiful little thing, named Ella._

_He didn’t respect her boundaries, ignored her safe word, over and over again…_

_She moved out. Haven’t heard from her since then… I hope she’s doing alright. I hope she moved on._

Fish’s words echoed in Charlie’s head over and over again as she stared at Ella; a girl who became Elliot’s dog.

“Bad, bad girl.” Eliliot said quietly, getting up from the couch; he grabbed Ella by her hair and pulled her out of the room, and moments later Charlie heard her pained yelps and cries.

When Thomas returned to the room, Charlie had regained her composure.

“Lovely thing.” she said, laughing quietly. “But it reminds me… I should go back and take care of my own boy. He despises loneliness.”

“Bring him with you next time.” Elliot suggested with a warm smile. “They could play together.”

“Oh, this is a wonderful idea!” she said, laughing quietly; she kissed him goodbye and left.

After few minutes of driving she parked her car on the roadside and burst into tears, sobbing hysterically. She embraced herself, trying to stop herself from shaking; but to no avail.

With trembling hand, she typed a text to Louise, to let her know she’s ok; without waiting for a response she called Oswald’s number.

He picked up after a few seconds.

“Charlie!” he greeted her, sounding distressed. “Fantastic timing, I was just about to call you. We-”

“I have to see you.” she interrupted him, almost choking on her tears. “I’m- I’m on my way home.”

“Schulz will be waiting for you.” he said after a short pause. “Charlie, what ha-”

But she already hung up. After calming down a bit, she started her engine again and drove home; and Schulz indeed was waiting for her in her garden, impatiently tapping his foot.

“About time!” he said as she got out of the car. “I’ve been… What the bloody hell happened to you?” he asked as she was opening the front door; her hands were shaking so badly she nearly dropped her keys.

“I have to feed Pingu.” she muttered, dropping onto her knees and hiding her face in Pingu’s warm, soft fur; her disoriented dog yelped a few times, trying to lick her face.

She poured him a bowl of kibble; finally she turned around to face Schulz.

“I’m ready.” she said, still shaking. “Take me to the Penguin?”

“Are you sure?” he asked, sounding concerned. “You might fall-”

“Just fucking take me to him!” she snapped. “Do your fucking job!”

He didn’t say anything over the entire ride, and neither did she; as soon as she entered the warehouse Oswald walked up to her and took her into his arms and she burst into tears again, the shock caused by what she saw still rocking her body.

(Ella looked at her like she didn’t see her, and when she opened her mouth only a dog-like whine came out and her body was covered in bruises)

“What happened?” Oswald eventually asked; but she only shook her head desperately, not yet ready to talk.

It took her about an hour to calm down; her eyes were burning and felt puffy and her cheeks were sore from the salty tears constantly streaming down them.

“Back before your birthday…” she finally said, her throat tight and lumpy. “Back before your birthday Fish warned me about Elliot. She said… She said he hurt one of her girls, named Ella. She said that Ella disappeared, that she didn’t hear from her since she moved out…”

Oswald didn’t say anything, only looking at her attentively. She continued.

“And Thomas told me he has a dog.” she choked out. “Named… Named Ella.”

Judging from his expression, Oswald connected the dots; his expression was a mix of shock and disgust and fury.

“Jesus.” he whispered, squeezing her hands lightly. “This is…”

“Fucked up.” she choked up. “But Oswald, her hair… She has the same exact hair color as I do.”

Oswald’s expression changed; he clenched his jaw and she could see the burning hatred building up in his eyes.

It passed after a few moments; eventually he sighed and looked away.

“This is not the end of the bad news for today.” he finally said.

“Tell me.” she said faintly. “What happened?”

“Are you sure you-”

“Yes!” she interrupted him. “Just… Just tell me, please.”

“Darling’s in the hospital.” he finally said. “Someone attacked her. Cut her throat.”

Charlie covered her mouth with her hand and stared at him with her eyes wide open.

“Who?” she choked out eventually. “Who… Who did it?!”

“We have no idea.” Oswald said, taking a few steps back; he folded his arms behind his back and started to walk back and forth. “And she’s being operated right now, so she won’t be awake for at least twelve hours. And even then - we have no idea if she _saw_ who did it.”

“Well, what are our suspects?”

“Up until this point, I only had one.” he stated. “Skua. But now… I’m not so sure anymore. It could have been Elliot.” he added. “He’s a surgeon, he knows his craft…”

“But… Why would he do this?!” she asked faintly. “Wait. I _was_ with him today.”

“It happened during morning hours.” Oswald said, shaking his head and she sighed; she arrived at Elliot’s mansion during afternoon hours, meaning he had plenty of time to assault Darling, get back home and clean himself up. “And as for _why…_ You mentioned this… Ella girl…” he said, wincing slightly; and she shuddered, thinking about the dark circles under Ella’s eyes, the way she walked on all fours. “Has the same hair color as you do. So does Darling. It can mean something.”

“It _does_ mean something.” she said very quietly; when Oswald looked at her she sighed, embracing herself. “He recently slipped me a roofie.” she finally admitted. “Louise was around, so she made sure he doesn’t try anything… But today he was making a move on me again.” she said, her voice breaking again. “I think… I think this might be about me.”

“Yes.” Oswald agreed quietly. “But this… _This_ is the worst case scenario.”

She started to cry again, and he cradled her in his arms. She was overwhelmed, exhausted, terrified; she was in over her head. Gotham was catching up to her, tightening it’s clutches around her - and there was seemingly no way out.

***

Two days later - after Charlie had calmed down a bit and collected her thoughts and stopped shaking at the mere thought of Ella and Thomas and the things he did to her - the Penguin and the Pinniped finally confronted Skua, Penguin’s main suspect in the puzzling mystery of Darling’s cut throat.

Darling’s condition was stable; she got to the hospital in time. According to her doctors, she’d have troubles speaking for some time; but they would pass with time. From safe distance, Charlie made sure Darling had everything she needed; regardless of who was responsible, she felt guilty. She was the reason Val Tennyson ended up mixed up in this mess; the least she could do was making sure she’s being taken care of.

Using his contacts and few allies, Penguin spread the word in the underground, a message to Skua; he wants to meet, face to face, and discuss the nature of their relationship. His message didn’t mention the Pinniped; she was supposed to be an element of surprise, an advantage.

And Skua responded - she accepted the invitation. They were supposed to meet underneath the Brown Bridge, on the outskirts of the Dixon Docks; Charlie was supposed to wait in the shadows, equipped with a taser, some rope, two pairs of cuffs and a knife, ready to ambush unsuspecting Skua.

Finally, hour of the meeting arrived; Charlie was waiting, safely hidden. Few of Penguin’s men were posted nearby, just in case; and Penguin himself stood in the meeting spot, waiting.

“Skua!” he called out. “I’m waiting!”

“I’m well aware.” someone responded; from her hideout Charlie could see a tall, lithe figure walk out of the shadows. She was dressed up in a sensible, dark bodysuit and heavy combat boots; and her face was hidden behind a mask. It was eerily similar to Penguin’s iconic mask, except its beak was longer and thinner.

“Penguin.” she said; it sounded like her mask is using the same voice-distorting tech as the ones of Penguin and Pinniped. “We meet. I thought you’d be taller.

“Sorry to disappoint.” he said, folding his arms behind his back and looking at the surface of the river. “But let’s skip the hostility, shall we? I just want to talk.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Skua stood next to him, with her back to Charlie. Charlie quietly snuck out of her hideout and started to sneak in her direction; and when she was close enough - she jumped, throwing herself at Skua’s back.

She clearly wasn’t expecting that; Charlie managed to topple her, quickly cuffing her hands behind her back. She flipped her onto her back and put the blade of her knife to Skua’s neck.

“Scream and you’re dead.” she warned her quietly, glancing at Oswald.

“Excellent, darling.” he congratulated her; she got up and stepped back, letting Penguin take charge.

It seemed like he’s not going to play nice, considered he promptly sat on Skua’s chest, resting his legs on the both sides of her head. She groaned; but it seemed like she has no problem breathing.

“So, Skua.” he said casually, resting the tip of his blade on the forehead of her mask; he put his finger at the pommel. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“I can imagine.” Skua said raspily.

“Let’s start with asking you a few questions!” he said in a friendly tone. “Here are the rules: you don’t answer, I stab you. I don’t like your answer, I stab you. You’re rude to me… Can you guess what happens?”

“You stab me.”

“Smart girl.” he said mockingly. “Alright, here’s question number one: why are you going after me?”

“You killed my father.” she said raspily. “That’s why.”

“Fair enough.” he said carelessly. “Number two! Did you recently cut someone’s throat?”

“No.”

“You know what? I don’t believe you.” he said, quietly, threateningly; he stuck the knife in the soft soil right next to Skua’s head. “I think I need to look you in the eye.”

As he reached behind Skua’s head to take her mask off she suddenly thrusted her head forward; if it wasn’t for him moving back the beak of her mask would surely crash against his chest.

“Alright, this won’t do. Cherry!” he called out to Charlie. “Can you hold her head for a moment?”

“Sure.”

She firmly held Skua’s head in place as Oswald was getting rid of her mask; finally he took it off and threw it aside.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” he said after taking a look at her face. “You’re not Sofia Falcone.”

Charlie never met Sofia Falcone in person, but at some point became aware of her appearance; most notably - she was white and quite pale. The woman lying under Oswald had brown skin - and she looked vaguely familiar.

“No shit.” she said; without the mask her voice was fresh and high. “What gave it away, everything?”

“Who _are_ you?” Oswald asked; and he sounded like he’s not even trying to hide his surprise. “You said I killed your father, but you’re not Sofia.”

“Falcone’s not the only father you killed, Cobblepot!” Skua snapped. “I’m surprised you don’t remember me. Back in the day there weren’t many black kids in Anders Academy.”

“...SKYLER HILL?!”

“NOW you remember! Well done, you moron! Yes, that’s me. Now get off me.”

“Not so fast, Hill.” he said, quickly regaining his composure. “Not before you understand that by killing your sack of shite of a father I made Gotham a favor-”

“I know, you dumbass!” she interrupted him. “He was awful. The worst! He was a racist, and a misogynist, and a coward. Which is why I’m so pissed _I_ didn’t get to kill him.”

“Now _that’s_ what I call a plot twist.” Oswald said, shaking his head. “And _that’s_ why you’ve been going after me?! Out of pettiness?!”

“You can bet your peachy ass. Now get off me!”

“Can someone explain to me what is going on?” Charlie finally asked as Oswald stood up and helped Skyled sit up before uncuffing her.

“Cherry, darling, this is Skyler Hill.” he said as she was getting up. “Daughter of the late mayor Hill… Whom I shot in the face.” he added, and Skyler scoffed. “We went to school together. Like all rich kids… We attended the Anders Academy. Skyler was one of very few black kids around there.”

“Damn it, Cobblepot!” Skyler groaned, looking over her shoulder. “There’s sand _everywhere_!”

“This is not how I pictured our reunion would look like.” he admitted, putting his hands in his pockets. “S’funny. Out of the four of us, two of us ended up as masked weirdos…”

“Sofi sends her regards.” Skyler muttered, trying to get some sand off her ass. “So, are you going to introduce me to the babe, or what?”

“We’ve already met.” Charlie said awkwardly. “After the concert. You-”

“Tried to kidnap you, yeah, I remember.” Skyler said with a wide smile. “And then a dude shot me. Good times. Fond memories.”

“Skyler-” Oswald said, putting his hand on her shoulder; but before he said anything else she suddenly kneeled him between his legs.

“And _this_ is for my father!” she said vindictively, spitting at him as he was curled up on the ground, groaning.

“I deserved that.” he choked out eventually.

Eventually he got back up, groaning in pain; Skyler giggled quietly, but quickly became serious.

“You asked me if I cut someone’s throat recently.” she reminded him. “The answer’s still no, by the way. What’s the deal?”

“Cherry, you tell her.” Oswald said, waving his hand in Charlie’s direction. “Take your mask off. Reveal yourself.”

“Are you sure we can t-”

“Of course we can trust her!” he interrupted her. “It’s Skyler Hill! We’ve been stealing apples together!”

Hesitantly, Charlie took her mask off; cool breeze brushed her cheeks gently.

“My name…” she said, looking Skyler in the eye. “Is Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen. I’m new to Gotham, and I’m… His lover.” she added, pointing in Oswald’s direction. “I’m from high society. To throw people off my scent we arranged for an actress to impersonate the masked me - and recently she was assaulted. Someone cut her throat.”

“Well I didn’t do it.” Skyler declared; she looked moved. “Fuck, if you didn’t tell me _you’re_ the real Pinniped I’d just assume that other girl is the real deal. You looked genuinely scared back at the party.”

And then Charlie realized; back at the fundraiser when Elliot roofied her, she and Louise went to the bathroom to talk - and as they were talking, a group of laughing women entered, Skyler Hill among them.

“Something doesn’t add up for me.” Oswald said eventually. “I heard Sofia put out a _prize_ for my head.”

“It was to throw you off.” Skyler said with a shrug. “Sofi’s not even angry at you for killing her old man off, he had it comin’ anyway, but she didn’t feel like pullin’ the trigger. But she _did_ agree to help me. And look - it worked!” she added, laughing. “Oh, the look on your face when you realized I’m not her. Priceless!”

She got serious again after looking at Charlie.

“I watched you that evening, you know.” she added. “I saw Tommy Elliot slip something into the drink he later gave you. I wanted to warn you, but it looked like you and McDonagh had everything handled.”

“Wait. You know Thomas Elliot?” Charlie asked; and Skyler nodded.

“Uh-uh! He also went to the Academy, but he only tried talking to anyone after Oswald had already left. He always was an antisocial weirdo, and eventually… We fell out of touch.” she said with a shrug. “But fast forward years later, and he’s Gotham’s top surgeon. Sorry about your family, by the way.” she added, turning her head to face Oswald. “My dad helped screw your parents over.”

“Did you talk to Bruce?”

“No.” she sighed. “Neither me nor Sofi tried to reach out to him. It’d be… One hell of an awkward reunion. Since, you know, my dad hired Joe Chill to kill the Waynes and so on. Awkward.”

“But you didn’t have any problem going after _me_.”

“My dad might have screwed yours over, but you then killed him, so I’d say we’re even.” she said, shrugging again. “Plus I was going after you with an intention of beating the shit out of you. Not quite the same as a moving reunion.”

“Alright, so now that we’ve established Skua did not cut Darling’s throat… There’s only one suspect left.” Oswald stated in a serious tone. “It could be a random assault, but… I doubt it.”

“So who’s the suspect?”

“Thomas Elliot. Did he really go to school with us? I don’t remember him _at all_.”

“I think he was scared of Sofi.” Skyler said, rolling her eyes. “And for a very good reason, if you ask me, she always knew how to fuck someone up. So we’re suspecting Tommy.” she said, switching back to previous subject. “You know, considering he _did_ slip your girl a roofie… I’d say it’s not that much of a reach to assume he’d go after her lookalike as well.”

“Wait.” Oswald said, raising his hand. “ _We_?”

“Well, yeah.” Skyler said with a shrug. “I’m on board! Especially since that’s what me and Sofi promised to Mask when we were sealing a deal.”

“What?!”

“Black Mask helped us with getting some equipment.” Skyler explained. “And in exchange I promised I’ll help you, once I kick your ass. And I did kick you in the nuts, so I’d say… Time to move on. I’m on board with whatever the hell is this thing you’re doing.”

“Just like the old times.” Oswald said cheerfully, and Skyler nodded.

“Just like the old times.” she agreed. “Skyler and Oz, together again!”

“It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise, Cobblepot. Likewise.”

***

With Skyler Hill on board, they got access to her equipment - and thanks to having a deal with the Black Mask she had some state of the art masterpieces on hand GCPD could only dream of.

They decided it’s high time to end that waltz of false pretenses and bust Elliot once and for all; and Charlie wholeheartedly agreed, feeling more and more sick of this whole situation. Gotham was a dark, dangerous place - but once they were done it’d be at least a bit safer. Once they were done, Oswald would be able to cut all ties to the Black Mask - and finally proceed with his own, personal plans.

Their plan as to how to deal with Elliot was simple - and relied on Charlie and her acting skills.

“We’ll send you to his mansion, with a hidden mic, an earpiece and a camera.” Oswald instructed her. “And you just have to talk to him. About the Hush, Ella - whatever, just get a confession out of him. Maybe try to snoop around a bit, but don’t overdo it. Just be safe. I’m not going to lose another loved one to another maniac.”

“We’ll be holed up nearby.” Skyler added. “So if something starts going down - we’ll come running.”

But like with all simple plans - things went very wrong very quickly.

At first, nothing hinted at an upcoming disaster; everyone hoped for the best. Skyler and Oswald decided to get drunk together once everything’s said and done; even Charlie was feeling rather positive.

She set up a date with Thomas, and when the day came - she got ready. Skyler installed all important pieces of tech on her; a tiny earpiece, an even smaller camera, an almost invisible mic - and a few lockpicks hidden inside her bra, just for a good measure. Oswald was very amused when he found out she knows how to pick locks; he demanded she tells him how and when did she learn that.

She was ready. Nothing could go wrong, since it was just a matter of talking about his hobbies with Elliot; so she kissed Pingu goodbye and drove to Sommerset, feeling like she might burst into song, she was so happy soon this whole ordeal will be over with.

And initially, things were really going well - even despite the way Thomas was looking at her. She convinced him to show her the upper floors of his mansion, all while talking about his peculiar hobbies - and relying everything to Skyler and Oswald.

“What’s in this room?” she asked, pointing at the locked doors between his bedroom and the library; but he shook his head with a mysterious smile.

“Every man needs his secrets, Charlie.” he said in a weirdly condescending tone. “So let me have mine and don’t concern your pretty little head with it, hmm?”

“This looks interesting.” she heard Skyler’s voice in the earpiece. “If _he’s_ hiding something, it must be really fucked up. Try to get there at some point!”

“And where’s Ella?” Charlie asked; in response to which Thomas whistled.

Ella crawled out of a nearby room; and at her sight Charlie’s heart broke. Her body was even more bruised than before; and there were light, fresh cuts on her back.

In the earpiece she heard Oswald’s cursing and Skyler’s horrified gasp.

“You can pet her.” Thomas said, motioning towards Ella. “She doesn’t bite.”

So Charlie slowly, carefully walked up to her and bent down, caressing her under her chin; Ella looked up at her and her eyes were empty.

“Please.” she whispered so quietly Charlie could barely hear her. “Help me.”

“I’m trying to.” Charlie whispered back, holding back tears; in the earpiece there was silence.

“Where does she sleep?” Charlie asked in a normal tone.

“In my bedroom on the floor, since this is where a dog belongs.” Elliot replied carelessly. “Do you want some tea, Charlie?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Splendid! Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” he said and left; after a moment she heard him go down the stairs.

“Now’s your chance.” Skyler urged her. “Hurry up, get to that locked room!”

“Ella.” Charlie said, kneeling in front of Ella. “I’m going to get you out of here, but I need your help. Can you help me?”

“Yes.” Ella whispered.

“Go to the stairs. If you see him coming back… Let me know. Alright?”

“Yes.” Ella repeated, her eyes filling with tears. “I knew you were different, from the moment you walked in… Dogs always know the truth.”

“But you’re not a dog.” Charlie choked out, holding back her own tears again. “You’re just a brilliant, brilliant woman. Don’t ever forget it.”

In a moment, she picked the lock to the locked up room and came in; and she wasn’t ready for what she saw.

It was as if all of her nightmares came true at once; it was incomprehensible at first, so incomprehensible she didn’t even realize that her earpiece had been emitting the sound of static for a while now.

She slowly walked towards the wall in front of her, not taking her eyes off it, not for a minute.

The wall - it was a shrine to her mother, to Eleanor. It was plastered with pictures of her; she slowly reached out and touched one of them with her fingertips, and a distant memory came back to her; a dinner party, back in New York, back in another life. Someone called her mother _Ella_ \- and she smiled politely, telling that person _Ella_ is her least favorite diminutive of _Eleanor_.

She stood there for a moment, simply staring at the mass of photos, coming from various stages of Eleanor’s life; there even was a wedding photo, the face of Crispin - Eleanor’s husband and Charlie’s father - painted over with a black sharpie.

_and ella’s hair are red, the same shade of red as charlie’s hair, the same shade she got_

_from_

_her_

_**mother** _

She stood there, motionless.

“Oh, Charlie.” she heard a quiet voice coming from behind her. “Bad, bad girl.”

She turned around quickly; Thomas was standing in the doorway, holding a tray with some teacups, a pot of tea, a sugar bowl and some biscotti. Ella was nowhere to be seen; and Thomas simply stood there, looking at her calmly, with a serene smile on his face; she slowly took a few steps back, her back hitting the wall.

The next few events were simultaneously so quick they felt like a blink of the eye and so slow they felt like an eternity; Thomas dropped the tray, its contents crashing and spilling and flying. Charlie screamed. He jumped in her direction and grabbed her and threw her onto the floor, his hands around her neck, squeezing her, choking her.

She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t scream; and she struggled and clawed at him with her fingernails, desperately trying to get him off her, but to no avail.

He picked the tiny mic up from the collar of her dress and looked at it with curiosity, snickering quietly.

“Your move, Cobblepot.” he whispered into it as she was drifting away.

Oswald was the last thing she thought about before everything went black.

 


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the one where things UNfuck themself.  
> kind of.

At first it seemed like nothing can go wrong - despite its simplicity their plan appeared to be foolproof; Oswald and Skyler had a live feed from Elliot’s mansion, and their temporary hideout - an abandoned building near the Trigate Bridge - was close enough to Elliot’s mansion they’d be able to get there in no time if they saw something was wrong. They were geared up and ready; even if it felt weird, sitting next to someone who - not so long ago - was going around claiming to be his newest nemesis.

“So.” he said, turning his head in her direction. “How’s life treating you?”

He always liked Skyler; she was boisterous, cheeky, bold - she was fun to have around, back when they were still kids in the Academy. During the years that followed however, his memories of her got more and more blurry; and eventually - he pushed them out of his mind, replacing them with burning anger and resentment directed at Bruce, who was living the life of a luxury in a spotlight. Skyler and Sofia seemed to be avoiding publicity; which was understandable. Sofia’s father was a mafioso, and Skyler always tended to avoid the topic of her father; he had a feeling there were some things happening behind the closed doors of the Hill household no one knew about.

“Better than you, I’d say.” she said with a shrug. “Could be better, could be worse.”

“So, are you and Sofia-”

“After you got shipped off to England and the Waynes were killed, Sofi was the only friend I was left with.” Skyler interrupted him. “We had to stick together, even if our old men weren’t happy about it. So we did, and after some time… You’re a big boy. Connect the dots.”

“Did she mellow during those years?”

“She learned to smile. She blinds people with this gorgeous smile of hers, and then… Boom. She hits ‘em so hard they don’t see it comin’.”

“Christ.” Oswald said, rolling his eyes. “I guess it’s a good thing Carmine’s criminal empire fell apart.”

“That’s another thing Sofia always hated about her old man - his empire. At some point it became more important to him than her and her mother. She pretty much grew up fatherless… All thanks to Carmine’s ambitions.”

Silence fell between the two of them as they observed Charlie’s trip through the mansion; eventually Skyler cleared her throat.

“So.” she said. “You and this girl, huh?”

“Uh-uh.” he muttered, glancing at her. “What about us?”

“Oh, come on.” she said playfully, nudging him between his ribs. “You two are cute. I almost feel sorry for almost kidnapping her.”

“And I almost feel sorry for the fact my man shot you.”

They went on like this for a while - and it felt good, the knowledge that his childhood friend is still willing to engage in a battle of wits. For a brief time, as a boy, Oswald had a crush on her; but it never blossomed into anything bigger, and eventually he got over it, same way he got over his friendship with Bruce.

( _Bruce had a crush on Sofia Falcone_ , he suddenly remembered; he wondered if Bruce ever thought about it, if he ever felt an unpleasant stinging while looking at _Romeo and Juliet_.)

Then - through the tiny camera hidden among the fibers of Charlie’s clothes - they saw the young woman shaken Charlie told him about earlier; the woman named Ella, who used to work for Fish, back when Mooney ran a fetish club. It was a money laundering business, but she ran it like a legitimate thing - and cared about every single person working there as hosts, affectionately calling them her _kids_. Something went down between Ella and Thomas Elliot, something that pushed Ella to quit the job and allegedly leave Gotham - and no one had heard from her ever since.

Now he knew why, and it was a horrible realization as he saw what the surgeon did to her; her body was covered in bruises and she looked like it’s been a long, long while since she last walked on two legs. She looked broken; but when Charlie’s body hid Ella from Elliot’s eyes she looked up and whispered a plea for help. There still was some fight left in her - a tiny part of her that refused to give up, to accept this as her ultimate fate.

Shortly after that, the power in their makeshift base went out.

“Fuck!” Oswald muttered, getting up. “You stay here, I’ll check what’s going on.”

The portable generator Skyler brought was turned off - the switch was unlocked and flipped. This wasn’t something that could just happen by itself, Oswald decided; but for now he decided to not let whoever was fucking with them know he’s aware of their presence.

He turned the generator back on and came back to very disgruntled Skyler.

“Someone’s jamming our signals.” she stated. “There’s only static.”

“What?!”

Like on command, something dropped onto the floor with a quiet thud; they turned around to see a gas bomb, one of Scarecrow’s - and the room was already filling with gas.

They looked at each other and reached for their masks; but it was too late. It seemed like the fear enthusiast finally figured out a way of upgrading his gas; it began to work as Oswald was struggling with the belts and buckles of his mask. He felt the first stings of anxiety, even though he barely inhaled anything at all; soon the filter built into his mask kicked in.

Skyler, unfortunately, didn’t manage to do it on time; being a masked menace was still a relatively new thing to her. Her body couldn’t do things like this from memory yet; and soon she dropped her mask and fell onto her knees, pulling her hair and whimpering in fear.

“No, no, no!” Oswald muttered, kneeling down next to her, picking her mask up and forcefully putting her onto her face, holding it there. “For fuck’s sake, Skua!”

“It’s no use.” he heard a demonic, distorted voice; and Scarecrow himself entered the scene, covered in his usual rags and burlaps. “The gas already entered her system.”

“If it isn’t number two on my list of idiots to kill!” Oswald said mockingly, trying to hide his rising anxiety; they lost all contact with Charlie, god knows what was going on in Elliot’s mansion. “What a _very_ pleasant surprise.”

“You sound scared, Penguin.” Scarecrow said, stepping closer. “What are you scared of, little boy? A monster under your bed? Or perhaps… Losing a woman you love?”

Oswald reached for his gun and cocked it; but Scarecrow only laughed mockingly.

“Go on!” he said. “Shoot me! But fear, little Oswald… Fear cannot be killed.”

Oswald fired in his direction, his thoughts racing; he knew Scarecrow’s working with Elliot, Charlie told him - but how did he know about what were they doing?

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, a thought that made him freeze, that made his heart stop. It felt cold, like he was lost in a snowstorm; it felt same way it did when he found out what Thomas Wayne, the father of his friend, did to his mother.

_If Scarecrow knows - Elliot also does._

“Oh!” the Scarecrow said; the bullet didn’t leave a single mark on him. His costume - as grotesque as it was - probably was bulletproof. “Did you _realize_ , Oswald? Come on, be a good boy. Succumb to your fear.”

“No.” he muttered, getting up; Skua’s mask fell onto the ground as he let go of it, but it didn’t matter. “No!”

“Yes.” Scarecrow said mockingly. “Fear can’t be killed and it can’t be reasoned with, and deep inside you’re still just a little boy… A little boy, whose mother was too dangerous to walk the streets.” he continued quietly, his every word sharp like a knife. “A little who who one day walked into a room just to see his father’s lifeless, heavy body, hanging from the ceiling… That’s what you are, aren’t you? Just a scared boy… And now you’re about to lose someone _again_.”

Oswald jumped at him, tightly squeezing his throat; but it was useless. Scarecrow - or whoever created his disguise - knew how to protect himself - and Oswald sat atop of him, desperately, pointlessly trying to rip his costume off, to make him shut up, to kill him for what he said.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp sting in his arm; and when he looked at it, he saw a syringe in Scarecrow’s hand.

“Whoops.” he said mockingly, dropping it onto the ground. “Poor little Oswald, at mercy of his fears… _Again_.”

Soon Oswald succumbed to his fears; soon all he could do was to scream, scream so loud his throat hurt, but it wasn’t loud enough.

***

“You’re awake!”

It was dark outside when he opened his eyes; he looked around in an attempt to figure out what’s going on, his thoughts hazy and chaotic.

He remembered when he saw the tied up Scarecrow nearby; next to him, Skyler Hill was slowly coming to her senses, groaning quietly. Their masks were lying on a nearby table; eventually Oswald spotted someone else in the corner of a room, a short, blond haired woman dressed up in all red and black, her face covered with a black arlecchino mask.

“Charlie!” Oswald realized, getting up quickly; too quickly, he realized, as his legs almost gave up and the world swirled in front of him.

“Whoah there!” the woman said, walking up to him and helping him sit down. “It’ll take a few more minutes for your body to get its shit together, Scarecrow’s toxin-”

“I don’t have time!” he interrupted her, frantically calling Charlie; but she wasn’t picking up. “Fuck!”

“It’s no use, little Oswald.” Scarecrow said raspily. “It’s done. She’ll never pick up.”

“What are you talking about?!”

He walked up to the bound man and kneeled next to him, looking his grotesque mask made out of a burlap sack in the eye.

“What. The fuck. Are you talking about?!”

But Scarecrow only laughed mockingly.

“He won’t talk.” the mysterious woman stated. “Trust me, I’ve been trying to get something out of him for hours - and nothing. He only laughs.”

“Hours?!”

“Yeah, it’s night. I came here… Around six hours ago.”

Six hours?! Oswald was glad he was already on the floor, because he’d surely had fallen; for six hours Charlie had been alone with that psycho Elliot.

Six hours.

She was probably-

_No. No, no, no, no. She’s not dead, she’s not. She’s smart and crafty and alive._

“Who are you?” he asked, getting up and turning in her direction.

“You can call me Harley Quinn.” she said, picking up a nearby baseball bat and resting it against her shoulder. “And you’re Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin.”

She pointed at disoriented Skyler with her bat.

“And that’s Skyler Hill. I’m not sure what is she doing here, but… That’s definitely her.”

“Great.” Oswald muttered, trying to not let panic get the better of him. “Quinn, I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m going to strike a deal with you, alright? You help me, and I’ll get you whatever you want - anything. Money, jewels, the head of the queen of England, a one night stand with Batman - _anything_.”

“I already got what I wanted.” she said, pointing at the Scarecrow. “But I’ll help you out anyway, just as long as you promise me to not kill me during your next great revolution.”

“It’s a deal. I need you to help me get into Elliot’s mansion.” he stated, feeling desperate enough to not lie. “The woman whose actions we’ve been tracking - I think he hurt her. And if he did… If he as much as laid a single finger on her…”

His voice broke for a moment, as he thought about Charlie - a girl who was supposed to be a one night stand, but who ended up accidentally stealing his heart. She was sweet, and didn’t try to change him, and was unconditionally on board with his thirst for blood; she understood.

“I’m going to kill him.” he finished. “If he hurt my Charlie, in any way… He’s a dead man.”

Even despite Harley’s hood and mask he saw the sudden shift in her expression.

“...what?” he asked slowly, suddenly feeling very calm, almost numb. “I can see it in your face. Tell me.”

“You might want to sit down.” she said quietly; and he did, not taking his eyes off her face. “A few hours ago, a young woman named Charlotte Schiller-Aberdeen had been located in Gotham General Hospital. She’s in a coma… And she’s not going to wake up anytime soon.”

Oswald was slowly processing her words; he didn’t say anything.

He only reacted to what she said next.

“Someone cut her heart out. She’s hooked up to some machinery keeping her alive, but… She’s asleep.”

“No.” Oswald muttered, the numbness being slowly replaced with stinging, tingling pain that flooded his body; his heart hurt and his throat was so tight he could barely breathe and there was ringing in his ears. “No!”

“I’m sorry.” Harley said quietly. “They have no idea who did it, or why… It’s been on the news for hours now.”

“I have to see her.” he muttered. “I… I have to see her.”

“Penguin-”

“Shut up!” he blurted out, banging his fist against the table. “Shut up!”

Quinn pursed her lips and crossed her arms, looking away; as he shakily got up - someone else entered the room.

Eddie Nygma, in his Riddler getup.

“I came as fast as I could.” he said hastily, glancing at the Scarecrow. “Harls. Is that-”

“The Scarecrow? Yes.” she interrupted him. “No time to talk, Puzzles, we have a trip to make.”

“I figured that much.” he said with a nod, looking at Oswald. “Penguin, did you-”

“Hear about the girl at the hospital? Yes, he did, I just told him.” Harley interrupted him, helping Skyler get up from the floor. “He’s going there.”

“That’s a remarkably stupid idea.” Riddler said, shaking his head. “Cops everywhere. They’ll arrest us all on spot.”

“So what are you suggesting, smartass?” Oswald snarled. “Well? I’m all ears!”

“We have friends on the force, Penguin. Time to actually get something out of those friendships. Now come on. We have a package to deliver to the police.” he added, pointing at the Scarecrow.

Oswald squinted, trying to focus on anything else than desperation; eventually he got an idea.

On their way back to the city, he called Bullock; the detective picked up almost immediately.

“I know.” he said before Oswald said anything. “Where are you?”

“On my way to police hq. Be there, Bullock.” he said quietly. “I need you.”

“I know and I’m ready. I’ll be there in five. Hang in there, there’s still hope.”

Oswald hung up without a word and returned his attention to Quinn and the Riddler.

“Whoever did this to that girl, has access to some state of the art equipment.” Harley said, looking at him; but he only shook his head.

“I _know_ who did this.” he said. “Thomas bloody Elliot.”

“The surgeon?”

“He runs the Hush.” Oswald said bitterly and Harley’s eyes widened. “Yeah. That urban legend? Not actually a legend. I sent Charlie out to investigate further after no one took our stadium show seriously, and… It didn’t go well.”

“Jesus fuck.” Quinn muttered. “That makes sense. Clean cuts, Barafu equipment-”

“Wait.” he interrupted her sharply. “Barafu? Are you sure?”

“Yes.” she said cautiously. “Latest models.”

“Fuck!” he choked out, banging his fist against his knee. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“What’s wrong?” Skyler asked; she and Harley exchanged disoriented looks. “Oswald!”

“Barafu…” he said through clenched teeth. “Is a brand of medical equipment by Victor Fries. A man I once called _my closest friend_. A man… Charlie claimed is becoming _her_ friend as well.”

Silence fell in Eddie’s van; only Scarecrow laughed mockingly.

“Betrayal, betrayal!” he hummed. “The sharpest knife of them all!”

He only shut up as Harley kicked him; and Oswald just sat there, clenching his fists, thinking about Victor and Nora. Victor always seemed tired, but he always had time for his friends; and even though their friendship began with Oswald landing a punch on his face - they grew close. They only met because of Nora; but eventually they created a bond on their own. And even though they hadn’t been in touch for years - Oswald couldn’t resist helping his old friend out when he briefly landed the position of Wayne Enterprise’s CEO. He sent Victor an anonymous donation, for the sake of his ill wife, for the sake of seeing her dance again; and Victor used the money to afford her treatment in Switzerland and to fund his own medical brand, brand that was now being used to keep Charlie between life and death.

“Oswald…” Skyler said quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder; but he only shook his head.

“Don’t.” he whispered back.

Eventually they reached their destination; Harvey Bullock was waiting on the sidewalk outside, smoking.

“Here’s how it’s going to go down.” Harley said quietly. “I’ll go first, since _technically_ I’m not a criminal, so they won’t arrest me on sight. I’ll take mister Hayseed with me. Then… Penguin can get his shit done.”

“I’ll go with him.” Skyler added, putting her mask on, and Harley nodded.

“Okay, so that leaves Puzzles. Puzzles?”

“I’m going to just stay here. Bullock knows me, but doesn’t know I’m the Riddler. Let’s make it stay that way.”

“It’s a deal. Alright, let’s go.”

Quinn jumped out of the car, dragging the tied up Scarecrow along; as soon as she walked in she was surrounded by cops, who took him away from her. She briefly glanced over her shoulder, nodding lightly in the direction of the car.

“Alright, let’s go.” Oswald said, pulling out his gun.

“Detective!” he called out, walking up to Bullock, who dropped his cigarette; before Bullock said anything Oswald grabbed him, turned him around and pulled him closer, wrapping his arm around his neck and putting a gun to his head.

“I’m doing this for Charlie.” he whispered; and Bullock sighed.

“I figured that much. No hard feelings.”

They entered the building followed by Skua, who was twirling her battle staff around.

“Nobody move, or the good detective dies!” Oswald yelled, firing a bullet at the ceiling; dead silence fell in the room and people froze. “Now take me to the rooftop.”

Nobody moved; so Oswald forced himself to snicker and tighten his grip around Bullock’s neck.

“Someone do as he says!” the detective said hastily.

“I’ll show you the way.” a woman said, stepping forward; Oswald laughed, recognizing her as Renee Montoya, the woman who killed Carmine Falcone for him and Lady Arkham. “Do you recognize me, Penguin?”

“Of course I do!” he said. “Good detective Montoya, the butcher of Falcone! Give me your address, so I can send flowers and chocolates to you.” he said mockingly, nudging Bullock’s head with a gun. “Now come on, detective. Lead the way.”

Montoya clenched her teeth, turned around and lead him to the rooftop, where the Bat-Signal was located; and he followed, pushing Bullock in front of him.

“Turn it on.” he said, pointing at the light with his gun.

“Only Gordon-”

“TURN. IT. ON.” he repeated. “Or you’ll have the doubtful pleasure of witnessing this detective’s scarce amounts of brain tissue, scattered all across the rooftop.”

Without saying another word, Montoya turned the light on; Batman’s symbol showed up in the sky.

“And now…” Oswald breathed out. “We wait.”

Batman showed up pretty quickly. One moment it was just the four of them on the rooftop; the next moment he was standing behind them.

“Let the detective go, Cobblepot.” he said, and Oswald snickered.

“Gladly!” he said carelessly, letting Bullock go; he sighed with relief, rubbing his neck. Oswald patted him on the shoulder and turned around to face Batman. “We need to talk, Bats.”

“I’m listening.”

“Great! So.” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “The woman at Gotham General. The one… With her heart cut out.”

“She’s your lover.” Batman said. “I know that.”

“She’s more than that!” Oswald said firmly. “She’s my _partner_ , Batman. I know this idea is alien to you - but that’s the truth. She’s my partner. I love her. And now… She’s in the hospital, with her heart cut out.”

Batman didn’t say anything.

“I want your help, Batman.” Oswald finally said. “I _need_ your help.”

“I know.” Batman said.

“Let me finish! God, you’re insufferable with those constant switches between brooding silence and logorrhea. If you help me save her, is she survives, if she wakes up… I’m yours.” Oswald stated, slowly reaching behind his head to take his mask off. “I’ll let myself be arrested. I’ll let justice take care me, just… Please, Batman. Help me save her.”

He took his mask off, exposing his face; exposing his tears.

The Bat didn’t even flinch.

“But if she dies…” he continued, his voice almost breaking. “If I lose her, same way I lost my fucking family… I’ll burn this city down, and everyone living here will burn as well. And then I’ll go after you.”

“Save your threats, Cobblepot.” Batman said, sounding unimpressed. “She’ll wake up, once I track her heart down. It’s not in Gotham.” he added before Oswald said anything. “I already checked Elliot’s mansion, very thoroughly - but I know where to find him.”

“Where?!” Oswald asked; but Batman shook his head.

“I’m not going to risk letting you get to him.” he said, turning around. “Stay put. I’ll contact you soon. Gordon.” Oswald heard him say as he was disappearing in the shadows. “Penguin reached out to me, we made a deal. I need you to-”

And just like that he was gone; and soon the phones of Montoya and Bullock buzzed.

“It’s a text from Gordon.” Bullock said, glancing at his screen. “He says… He says we’re supposed to leave you alone.” he said, looking up at Oswald. “And spread the news. For the next twelve hours you’re off the wanted list.”

“Great.” he breathed out, turning around to face Skua. “Care to accompany me for a few more hours?”

But she shook her head.

“No.” she said. “I know what you’re going to do, and I don’t want to be a part of it. You’re on your own… For now.” she added, handing him something; an inconspicuous looking black metal whistle.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Try it.” she said, pointing at it; so he whistled. The whistle made a sound similar to that of a seagull; but the ending notes sounded almost desperate.

A small light built into her staff lit up.

“Use it when you’ll need a ride.” she said, picking her staff up. “And I’ll come. But for the next few hours - we’re going our separate ways. Good luck, Penguin.”

She left, jumping off the side of the building; and judging from the lack of a horrified scream, she was prepared.

Bullock glanced at him; with Montoya still around they couldn’t speak freely, but that didn’t stop Bullock from asking him a question.

“What are you going to do?”

“Something that’ll put me back onto the wanted list.” he said, walking towards the door. “Thanks for being a cooperative hostage, detective.”

He went back downstairs and left the building; he then pulled his phone out, opened the GPS app and set his destination: the Gotham address of Victor Fries.

***

“At this hour, it better be g-”

“You piece of shit!” Oswald interrupted him furiously, clenching his fists.

“O-Oswald?” Victor said uncertainly; to which Oswald shot him a shark-like smile that didn’t reach his eyes and promptly punched Victor in the face.

It’s been a while since Oswald punched someone; and it felt so damn _good_.

“How could you?!” he yelled, landing more and more punches on Victor who didn’t even try to defend himself, as if he knew what is it about. “After what I did for you and Nora, _HOW COULD YOU_?!”

“Oswald-” Victor choked out, to which Oswald grabbed a framed photo off the nearest shelf and hit Victor with it, smashing the glass against his head.

“You bloody wanker!” he practically sobbed out, kicking him. “Choke! On! My! Bloody! Fuck!”

He grabbed another photo, and briefly glanced at it; it was a wedding photo. Nora looked stunning in her white dress, and Victor looked completely lovestruck; and next to him was Oswald - Victor’s best man.

Victor used this sudden pause to sit up, coughing and groaning; and Oswald looked at his own hands, bruised and covered in his friend’s blood.

“Oswald, please.” he said faintly. “Let me explain.”

“How _could you_?” Oswald asked again, his voice breaking.

“He threatened my Nora!” Victor said tearfully. “He said he knows where she is, he said he can hire someone who’ll kill her if I don’t cooperate… He threatened my Nora.” he repeated quietly. “He was watching my every move!”

“I made that anonymous donation all those months ago.” Oswald choked out, not even trying to hold his tears back anymore. “When I was running Wayne Enterprises. The one you used to start your company.”

“Oswald…” Victor said faintly. “He threatened my Nora. You’d do the same in my situation.”

Oswald didn’t say anything, instead looking at him; at first he wanted to deny his claim - but something stopped him.

He terrorized a city for his family. He gave everything up for Lady Arkham.

He gave his freedom up for Charlie.

“Yes.” he said raspily, sitting down next to Victor. “In a heartbeat.”

“I am sorry, Oswald.” Victor said quietly. “I really, truly am. This woman, this Charlie… I didn’t _know_ about you two. She never told me.”

“Because I asked her not to.” Oswald said, looking away. “She always does what I ask her for, even if it includes going into a lion’s den…”

His voice broke and tears began to stream down his face; Victor silently embraced him, pulling him closer.

“You know…” Victor said quietly as Oswald sobbed, banging his fists against the floor in overwhelming frustration. “This reminds me of our first meeting.”

“Heh.” Oswald choked out. “You’re not going to let this one go, are you?”

“You decking me because you thought I’m someone else? Never.” Victor said, shaking his head solemnly.

Oswald smiled weakly, moving away.

“Some things never change, I suppose.” he sighed. “Here I am, your blood on my hands again, a woman’s name between us.”  
“Give her my most sincere regards, Ozzie.” Victor said softly. “She… Made quite an impression on me. Nora would love to meet her one day.”

“How’s Nora doing?”

“The money you sent me bought us a lot of time.” Victor said, looking him in the eye. “Maybe even a lifetime. She’s getting better, stronger… Why did you make this donation?” he asked suddenly, to which Oswald shrugged.

“It just felt right.” he said. “At that point, I was already a crook and a killer and a terrorist… But I was there because Nora helped me. I was alive, because she stopped me one night, because she forced me to get help - and it seemed fitting to repay in kind.”

“She misses you, Oswald.” Victor said quietly. “Hell, we both miss you.”

Oswald opened his mouth to say something - but his phone rang.

“Allo?”

It was Batman.

“I have Elliot and her heart. We’re on our way. My friend at the hospital will take it from there.”

He hung up; and Oswald quickly got up

“He found it.” he stuttered out to puzzled Victor. “He found her heart. Victor, I… I have to go.”

“Need a ride?”

“No.” he said, shaking his head; he pulled out the whistle Skua gave him and whistled, filling the air with high, shrill birdsong.

“Alright.” Victor sighed, looking at the mess they made. “I guess that means I should clean up.”

“And… Maybe patch yourself up.”

“Eh.” Victor said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ve been through worse. Take care, Oswald.” he added.

The two men hugged, and Victor’s warm, firm embrace nearly made Oswald tear up again.

Skua was waiting on a motorcycle outside the building; as soon as she saw him she threw him a helmet.

“Hop on.” she said, patting the seat behind her. “Any news?”

“Batman found her heart. He’s on his way to the hospital.”

“Good. Hang tight, friend!”

They reached the hospital in no time; the woman at the front desk directed them to west wing, fifth floor, without as much as even looking up from the screen in front of her.

Nearly everyone was there, except for Misty Haze and Maroni; and it was an awkward reunion, since officially - none of these people had any ties to Oswald Cobblepot, meaning they had to act shocked, for the sake of other people.

The doors to Charlie’s room were closed, and people were gathered on the corridor; through the glass window he could see a hospital bed, surrounded by a mass of electronics.

“Batman found Elliot and her heart.” he announced, as everyone’s eyes were on him and his masked companion. “He’s on his way.”

Louise - good, sweet, smart Louise, the attorney leading the hunt, the woman who broke Vicki’s heart - seemed to have the biggest problem with staying in character.

“Oswald Cobblepot.” she said, and it sounded like she’s putting great effort into sounding menacing and stern. “You’re a wanted man.”

“District attorney.” he said, nodding in her direction. “Let’s agree to bury the hatchet, shall we? This is not about me being a criminal and you being on the side of the law, this is about a woman we both care about being on the verge of death.” he said calmly. “And I assure you… I’m not as bad as everyone says I am.” he added quietly with a wink. “Charlie has a dog.” he added in a normal tone, looking around. “Did someone take care of it?”

“My wife.” Esme said and he nodded in her direction.

Eventually he walked up to the window and looked inside the room; he could see Charlie, her pale skin and red hair. He couldn’t see her face, but he remembered how she looks asleep; and his heart was hurting as he was pushing away the possibility of never waking up next to her ever again.

“Move!” he heard a sharp voice, coming from the elevators. “Out of the way!”

When he looked in the direction of the voice, he saw a tall, gray haired woman; she walked up to him.

“Batman wants to speak with you.” she said and her blue eyes were piercing like needles. “Come with me.”

He nodded and followed her; on the way she looked at him over her shoulder.

“I’m Leslie Thompkins.” she said with a nod. “Second best surgeon in Gotham - first, now that Elliot’s going to rot in jail.”

“I’m-”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, kid.” she interrupted him. “I know who you are, your face’s plastered all over the damn city.”

Batman was waiting for them in her office; Thomas Elliot was sitting in a chair, heavily bruised, bound and gagged. He looked at Oswald with burning hatred in his eyes.

“I kept my end of the bargain, Cobblepot.” Batman said as they entered. “You will be arrested once she wakes up and you have a chance to speak to her.”

“What was he trying to do?” Oswald asked, pointing at Elliot.

“I don’t know.” Batman admitted. “I never asked.”

“You boys figure it out.” Thompkins chimed in. “I have a surgery to take care of.”

She left; Batman followed her with his eyes.

“Your lover’s in good hands.” he eventually said. “Leslie Thompkins is a master of her craft. Pinniped… Will make it.”

“I sure hope so.” Oswald said quietly, kneeling in front of Elliot. “So, Thomas.” he said in a casual tone. “Finally we meet eye to eye.”

“Cobblepot…” Batman warned him, but Oswald waved his hand.

“Relax, Bats, I’m not going to hurt him.” he said, not taking his eyes off Elliot’s face. “I just want some answers.”

He took the gag out of Elliot’s mouth.

“Why, Elliot?” he asked, looking him in the eye. “Why?”

“You’ll never understand.” Elliot said raspily. “So why waste my breath?”

“He had a room in his house plastered with photos of her mother.” Batman said and Oswald flinched, looking up at him in disbelief. “He also had a human pet with the same name and the same haircolor and I found him at Eleanor’s grave in New York.”

“So it wasn’t even about _Charlie_.” Oswald muttered, looking back at Elliot. “It was about the blood coursing through her veins, about her genes… Wait.” he realized, again looking at Batman. “That pet, Ella. Where is she?”

“She was nearly catatonic when I found her. Police took care of her.”

“Good.” Oswald sighed, getting up; he was tired. “Hey, Batman.”

“Yes?”

“When I get out of jail… I’ll find you.” he promised. “Because this is not over yet. I’ll be back.”

“I know.” Batman replied; and there was a weird note in his voice, something almost like amusement. “You’re a very persistent pest, Cobblepot. It’s a shame you’re not putting it to use some other way.”

Batman left, taking Elliot with him; and Oswald came back to others.

“They took her.” Louise said as soon as she saw him. “For surgery. And… We were waiting for you with moving elsewhere.”

“It’s very kind of you, miss district attorney.” he said tiredly. “Let’s go.”

The small hall next to the operating rooms was completely empty; meaning they could drop the charade.

“What the fuck, Oswald?!” Louise exploded. “I knew Elliot’s making moves on her, but this-”

“It’s a long story.” he interrupted her. “Alright? And I don’t feel like telling it right now.”

“You can’t just keep me in the dark forever!” she exploded. “For once in your miserable life be fucking honest with me!”

“Why don’t you ask Vicki?!” he shot back, for a moment forgetting that Vicki’s quiet return was meant to be a secret. “Charlie ended up with her heart missing, because she wanted to help _me_ pay back _her fucking debt_!”

“Uh.” Bullock said, interrupting the awkward silence. “Can someone please explain what is going on? I get that I’m a detective, and am supposed to deduce things, but it’s been a long day. I was held on a gunpoint.”

Louise looked at Oswald silently, angrily.

“Leave.” she said quietly.

“Lou-”

“Leave!” she exploded, pushing him away as he tried to put his hand on her shoulder. “Please, just for five minutes. I… I don’t want to look at you.”

“Come on.” Skua said quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You mentioned your friend’s sister is here. Let’s go visit her, the operation’s going to be long anyway…”

“Yeah.” he muttered, turning around. “Let’s go.”

They found Val on third floor - Archie was sitting next to her bed. He got up as they came in.

“Boss?” he asked with disbelief. “What- what are you doing here? What is _she_ doing here?”

“You’re the guy who shot me!” Skyler said, waving at him. “No hard feelings. We’re friends now.”

“I wanted to see how’s your sister doing.” Oswald said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame; Val turned her head to look at him, her throat bandaged. He sighed.

“I’m sorry, Darling.” he said; and he meant it. “That was not part of the plan.”

In response she only shrugged and gave him a thumbs up - as well as a middle finger.

“Fair enough.”

“I’ve heard what happened to your girl, boss.” Archie said cautiously and Oswald looked away. “Is she going… To make it?”

“Hopefully.” Oswald replied quietly. “But this means we’re going to put our great plans on hold.” he added in a normal tone. “I made a deal with Bats, and once Charlie wakes up… That’s it for me. I traded my freedom for her life. Don’t worry though, you and the other boys are safe. And you and Schulz better save me a piece of that wedding cake.”

Tennyson hugged him without a word; and Oswald groaned, even though it felt nice.

“Don’t worry, boss.” Tennyson said quietly. “Everything’s going to work out, one way or another.”

On their way back to the surgery wing, Oswald and Skyler bumped into Fish Mooney, who was standing in the corridor, absentmindedly looking into a room.

“Fish!” Oswald said, walking up to her.

She didn’t move; and when he followed her eyes, he understood.

Inside the room, Ella was asleep; curled up in a ball, her fingers gripping the blanket tightly, so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“All these months…” Fish said quietly. “All these months she was with this monster. I thought… I thought she started a new life. I thought she’s happy.”

“How is she?”

Fish sighed.

“Stable.” she eventually said. “But it’s not her body that concerns me, body can be fixed - but her mind? She was nearly catatonic when they found her. They theorize she tried to either shoot Elliot - or herself.” she said, her voice breaking; and Oswald didn’t say anything, remembering the gun he gave Charlie for her birthday, the one she carried around in her purse. “Why would he do this, Oswald? To anyone?”

“Batman claims it all goes back to Charlie’s mother.” he said, not taking his eyes off Ella. “He had an unrequited crush, it turned into a full-fledged obsession… Bam. A long string of very bad decisions.”

“He’s a monster.” Fish said, her voice filled with hatred. “I hope he’ll rot.”

“He will, Fish. He will.”

That was not the end of bumping into people; in the main hall they walked into Eddie Nygma, accompanied by a very tired-looking young woman. Judging from her hair alone, Oswald decided she’s Harley Quinn; and when she spoke his suspicions were confirmed.

“There you are!” she said at his sight. “They asked me so many questions I almost forgot what my name is. How’s your girl?”

“She’s being operated.”

“That’s good. But I have something better. They unmasked Scarecrow.” she announced. “That is, once they figured out how to get him out of his disguise. And turns out - _I was right_.” she added, looking at Nygma, who rolled his eyes.

“I never said you’re wrong, Harls.” he said tiredly. “I only said we have to prove it first.”

“Wait.” Skyler - still in her mask, which made her stand out like a sore thumb - said, raising her hand. “You’re that missing girl from the news, aren’t you?”

“Harleen Quinzel, one and only.” she said with a bow and Oswald nodded; he remembered Charlie mention Harleen - Crane’s assistant - once or twice.

“So who was hiding under the hood?” he finally asked.

“Jonathan Crane.” Nygma and Harleen replied simultaneously; and Oswald was glad he’s too tired for anger or shock.

“That’s it.” he said, raising his hand. “I’m going back. First I need to see Charlie, then I need coffee, and then I’m going to throw a very spectacular fit over Cranecrow. Hell, maybe they’ll lock us up in the same cell at Blackgate.” he said half-jokingly. “Fucking Christ. No, I’m… I’m going to not think about this one for a while.”

“You and me both, mate.” Harleen said grimly. “Anyway, me and Puzzles are going to get some food and we’ll join you guys downstairs.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’ll join you.” she repeated. “My fucking _mentor_ attacked you so you lost contact with Charlie. I’m also personally invested in her well being.”

“Charlie’s going to lose it once she wakes up.” he muttered, not even having energy to smile.

“This is getting out of control.” he muttered to Skyler; she laughed quietly.

“Do you want me to call Sofi and tell her to get her ass here?”

“No.” he said firmly. “Also if I see Bruce Wayne there I’m going to lose it.”

Luckily for Wayne, he wasn’t there when Oswald and Skyler got back; Louise seemed to have calmed down.

“Now everyone knows about Vicki.” she said after noticing him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at you for just revealing my secret like this, but… Maybe it’s for the better.”

He didn’t say anything; and she crossed her arms.

“What did you mean when you talked about a debt?” she finally asked; and Oswald sighed, knowing this time he has to give her some explanation.

“Back when we were still planning everything, Vale made a deal with the Black Mask.” he said reluctantly; Louise’s eyes widened. “He - it was a he back then, Sionis - gave her equipment, and said he’ll one day come back to cash in his favor. I agreed to be her guarantor in case things went south. Fast forward to not so long ago - new Mask pops out, reminds me of the debt, since officially Vicki’s believed to be dead. Charlie told me she can help. And now… Here we are.” he sighed. “Without getting into details: Elliot was buying Mask’s debtors from him, but was paying Sionis instead. They went missing, Charlie went to investigate, thinking it’s about organ trafficking. Turns out it was _not_ about organ trafficking, and that Elliot was fixated on her late mother. And that’s the gripping tale of how Charlie ended up with a hole in her chest.”

“Jesus Fuck.” Louise muttered, hiding her face in her hands. “That’s… A lot of process.”

“And even more to go through.” he said with an indifferent shrug. “Face it, Louise: you and Charlie both have a type, and that type is _gets other people into deep, deep shit, but does it so charmingly you can’t really be mad_.”

She didn’t say anything, instead only nodding; Bullock cleared his throat.

“Alright, so it seems like we’re clearing the atmosphere by revealing our secrets. Does anyone here have something they’d like to talk about? A secret crime empire? A secret identity?” he said, his eyes focused on Skua; for a moment Esme looked like she wants to say something, but instead pursed her lips and looked away.

“What?” Skua said, realizing Bullock’s looking at her. “I don’t have any secrets!”

“You’re wearing a mask.” Bullock reminded her politely. “We have no idea who are you. Cards on the table, She-Penguin. Take it off.”

“I’m Skua!”

“Skua.” he repeated. “Take the mask off.”

So she did - and the majority of people gathered there recognized her almost instantly.

“Yeah.” she said, looking embarrassed. “That’s me.”

Oswald sat in the far corner, pulling his knees to his chest; and he remained there, even as Harleen and Eddie appeared, with a supply of sandwiches and coffee.

“Here.” Esme said quietly, giving him a cup of coffee. “But it would be better for you to take a nap.”

“Later.” he replied raspily, glancing at her as he was taking the cup; the light there was dim, and as she was reaching down to her a dark shadow fell on her face, and only her eyes were visible; and for a moment Oswald felt like his tired brain is trying to make a connection.

“Thanks.” he said, taking the coffee and taking a sip.

He tuned everything out, his eyes focused on the door to the operating room; and he waited.

He waited.

***

She woke up feeling disoriented, dizzy and sore. Last thing she remembered was Thomas, squeezing his hands around her neck; and then… Nothing.

Her throat was dry and felt like it’s lined with sandpaper; and eventually - after looking around - she realized she’s in hospital.

“What..?” she muttered faintly, looking at the IV drop and the monitors. “What happened?”

After turning her head, she saw Oswald on a chair next to her bed; he was asleep, with his head hanged low and his arms crossed.

“Oswald..?” she said quietly; hesitantly; he woke up almost instantly, his eyes hazy, his dark circles even more prominent than usual.

“Charlie?” he muttered feverishly, looking at her. “Oh my god. You’re… You’re awake.”

“What happened?” she croaked out; he touched her face and his fingers were shaking and he looked like he’s about to cry.

“You almost died.” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Elliot… Elliot cut your heart out.”

She blinked a few times, trying to process what she just heard.

“Then how am I alive?” she eventually asked. “Or did I die and go to where morally mediocre people go after death?”

He didn’t even smile; _he_ looked like he died recently.

“Oswald…” she said softly, before coughing a few times. “I’m alive. I think. Can you give me some water, so it stays that way?”

He picked a cup of water with a straw up from the nearby table; his hands were shaking so badly he nearly spilled the water as he was holding it.

“I should go get someone.” he eventually said, after putting the cup down. “Let them know you’re awake…”

“Not yet.” she said firmly. “Oswald, tell me. What happened when I was out?”

He looked away, and she sighed.

“Oswald. I know you’re hiding something from me. Talk to me.” she pleaded. “Please.”

“He cut your heart out and escaped with it.” Oswald eventually whispered, still avoiding her eyes. “And I had no idea where to look for it, so… I asked Batman for help.”

Finally he looked her in the eye; and he seemed defeated.

“I traded my freedom for your life.” he said quietly, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “And I think it was worth it.”

She started to cry; and it attracted the attention of a silver-haired woman, who quickly marched into the room.

“Well, looks like our Sleeping Beauty’s awake!” she said briskly. “Good to see my hard work didn’t go to waste. Young man, I need to excuse you for a minute.”

“No!” Charlie protested tearfully. “I want him to stay!”

“...alright.” the woman muttered.

She ran some checks on her, to see how is she doing after such traumatic experiences; apparently everything was fine, considering what she went through.

“Now.” the woman - who in the meantime introduced herself as doctor Leslie Thompkins - said to Oswald. “I had a deal with Batman, you see. I’m supposed to reach out to him soon, to make you keep your end of your bargain.”

Oswald opened his mouth to say something; but she shushed him instantly.

“Don’t interrupt me, young man, being an orphan and a criminal is not an excuse for the lack of manners. What was I… Ah, right.” she remembered. “But me and Batman go way back. I’m sure he can forgive me a small mishap, considering how many times he ruined my schedule. You have twenty four hours.” she added in a softer tone. “That’s all I can do without him getting suspicious.”

“W-what was she talking about?” Charlie asked as soon as the doctor left.

“I was supposed to get arrested as soon as you wake up and I tell you what happened.” he said, not looking at her. “Charlie…”

“Why did you do it?” she asked tearfully. “I- I don’t understand! You spent so much time planning, dreaming - just to throw it away?!”

“It’s because I love you!” he shot back. “Getting my revenge is not worth it. I can bear losing some of my men, I can live with Maroni’s clique turning their back on me - but no matter how you put it, no matter how you look at it, my revenge is just not worth losing _you_. It can wait a few years. It can wait for a few decades. I’m a patient man.”

“But there were other options!” she choked out. “I could get a transplant!”

“You’d have to wait _months_ , or even _years._ You were dying, Charlie. My revenge isn’t worth it.” he repeated, his voice breaking. “There are things I’m not willing to sacrifice, and you’re on that list. You almost _died_ to set me free from the Mask. I’m not willing to let you _actually_ die just to evade jail and maybe punch Bruce Wayne a few times.”

“But I did it because I love you!”

“You did _plenty_ of things out of love. You sheltered me, you infiltrated the Hush, you became a masked criminal yourself, you renovated the Cobblepot park, you almost _died_. Let me do a right thing once. Just once. Let me be a better man, for a moment.”

So she smiled through tears and let him; they only had twenty four hours, after all. They talked; she asked about Pingu and he calmed her, saying Misty and Esme took him as soon as she was identified at the hospital. Plenty of people were worried about her; but except for him everyone had other responsibilities.

“I don’t mind.” she whispered as he was brushing her face with his fingertips. “What happened after I passed out?”

“Scarecrow attacked me and Skua.” he said quietly and she sighed. “And as _we_ were out, Harley Quinn took care of him.”

“Is she really Harleen Quinzel?”

“Yeah. She went into hiding after accidentally finding some incriminating evidence against Crane, she reached out to Nygma, they plotted something out… And thus the Scarecrow had fallen.”

“Wait. Crane? Jonathan Crane?”

“Yeah. They unmasked him. His students… Went wild after the press release.”

“Oh my god.” she muttered faintly. “I… I had therapy sessions with him. I told him about _everything_. I told him I’m afraid you don’t actually-”

She paused, looking at him; but he only sighed.

“That I don’t actually love you?”

“Yeah.” she admitted, looking away. “But I think this one’s in the past, now that you’re going to jail for me…”

She began to tear up again.

“I’m going to miss you!” she eventually choked out. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how many years. I’ll wait. And if you escape… I’ll run away with you. To Central Europe, to China - wherever you want.”

“Shhh.” he muttered, his eyes suspiciously wet as well. “Don’t get so worked up.”

She cried when their time was up and they came to take him away; they handcuffed his hands behind his back and recited his rights to him, but he wasn’t listening, his eyes on her, as he was quietly mouthing “everything’s going to be alright, love” to her.

But as she was left alone it didn’t feel like anything’s going to be alright ever again; it felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest again.

She started to cry and didn’t stop even as her friends started to visit, bringing flowers and cards and gifts. This river of tears couldn’t be tamed; and in those moments she wholeheartedly wished her fears were a reality. She wished he didn’t love her; she wished he didn’t save her.

***

Black Mask paid her a visit one night, soon after Oswald was arrested.

“I hope you’re happy.” Charlie said bitterly, noticing her in the corner of the room. “I hope you’re fucking happy.”

“I’m not, actually.” Mask admitted, to which Charlie scoffed. “Scarecrow… Was never part of the equation. If it wasn’t for him… This whole mess would never have happened.”

“Are you saying Elliot’s fixation on my mother _was_ part of the equation?!”

The Mask didn’t answer; which was an answer by itself.

“You knew.” Charlie said quietly. “You knew, all along…”

“Yes.” Mask said quietly. “I knew about his intentions, that is true. What I _didn’t_ know… Was the fact he had an accomplice. The grain of sand that stopped the machine…”

“Why are you here?” Charlie asked; she was so furious there were tears in her eyes and everything was turning into a blur. “You got what you wanted. Why are you here, to torment me?!”

“There were things I never planned for.” the Mask repeated. “Things that weren’t meant to ever happen. Such as you nearly dying. Penguin and Skua were supposed to save you - but they couldn’t. You gave more than you shouldn’t. It’s only fair… I paid you back.”

She stepped closer to Charlie’s bed, and Charlie could hardly believe her ears; she wasn’t expecting to see the Mask ever again.

She considered her options; Oswald and Vicki dealt with this devil - and Vicki was only left unaffected due to being believed dead. Oswald was in jail, awaiting trial; but right before her was someone who was offering her a solution - just because she decided Charlie nearly dying was a tad too much.

She grabbed the white sleeve of Mask’s jacket and pulled her closer, close enough to be able to whisper into her ear.

“I want…” she breathed out. “I want you to fix this mess. I don’t care how. But if you don’t… I will find you.” she whispered. “I’m good at finding people. I will find out who you are, I will kill you… And then I will fix this _my_ way. I will spill a river of blood.”

“It’s a deal.” Mask replied in a normal tone. “Now if you’ll excuse me… I need to visit some people. What you’re asking of me is a no small feat - but it’s manageable. Word of the Mask does carry weight.”

“Good.” Charlie said lightly, letting her go and shooting her a smile. “Take care, Mask. I’d hate for something to happen to you before I get what I want.”

The Black Mask didn’t reply, instead simply leaving the room, quietly closing the door behind her; and Charlie was left alone with her thoughts and the sounds of the machinery.

***

Deep within Blackgate, someone paid Oswald a visit.

“I’m surprised you held onto your end of the bargain.”

“Well, don’t be.” he said without moving from his bed; it was hard and uncomfortable and nothing when compared to the soft mattress in Crest Hill. “All in all, I’m a honorable man.”

“You have an odd definition of honor. Dirty tricks, murder, deception…”

“Those are _your_ tricks as well, Bats.” Oswald pointed out, rolling his eyes. “I know, I know, _you_ don’t kill. But you lie. You deceive. We’re not so different, you and I. The only difference is… The side we’re on.”

“You’re right.” Batman said, much to Oswald’s surprise. “We’re more alike than you’d think, Cobblepot. Maybe one day you’ll realize.”

“Well, _thanks._ ” Oswald scoffed; but when he looked up there was no one else in his cell and the block was quiet and asleep. He sighed, shook his head and returned to staring at the ceiling, thinking about her and her eyes filled with tears.

 

 


	6. fin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok, this is the one where things really, genuinely unfuck themself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it for "fix me or conflict me" - more to come in "no more war (give me peace)"; a collection of loosely connected oneshots describing everyone's happily ever till the next giant crisis happens.

One day Louise paid Charlie a visit, pale and visibly shaken.

“Lou?” Charlie asked, looking up. “What… What happened?”

In response, Louise only dropped a newspaper onto Charlie’s bed and sat in a nearby chair, hiding her face in her hands.

“Oh no.” Charlie said quietly after reading the headline. “Oh no.”

“Oh no.” Louise agreed, her voice muffled by her hands.

Vicki Vale let herself get arrested - and the trial of Lady Arkham and Penguin was set to begin in a month, followed by the trials of Thomas Elliot and Jonathan Crane the next day.

“This is a disaster.” Louise stated, straightening her back. “She’ll go end up in Arkham, and I won’t see her ever again.”

Her voice broke; and Charlie quietly opened her arms and Louise rested her head on her chest and they both cried like confused, heartbroken disasters they were.

“How comes _I’m_ not arrested though?” Charlie asked quietly after a while; Louise raised her head, sniffling quietly.

“The mayor intervened.” she said, her eyes red and puffy. “What, haven’t you heard?”

“N-no?”

“He claims the Agency sent you to Gotham to lure Penguin and Lady Arkham out.” she sighed. “And since he apparently has some friends there… They’re not denying anything. Which would also explain his spotless record.” she added. “No ties to anything or anyone - because he has ties to the Agency, and they cover their asses ridiculously well. Gordon’s pissed off about it.” Louise added. “So… Better don’t deny it. If someone asks - you were working with the law.”

“And why didn’t someone tell me?!”

“I was writing emails.” she heard the mayor’s voice coming from the door. “But to no avail.”

“Mister mayor!” both women said simultaneously.

“Ladies.” he greeted them with a nod, closing the door behind him. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”

“I should go.” Louise said, getting up; but the mayor stopped her.

“No, you should stay. After all, this concerns you as well.”

“I have no idea what is going on right now.” Charlie admitted, looking at the mayor. “So I’d be glad for a step by step explanation. Mind this, mister mayor, I had my heart cut out and found out my therapist was actually the Scarecrow. Cut me some slack.”

“It’s quite simple, really.” the mayor said with a shrug. “And I’m pretty sure you know where is it coming from.”

“...the Mask.” Charlie said quietly, to which Louise scoffed angrily.

“Really, Charlie? Really? You made a deal with _the Mask_?!”

“She came to me!” Charlie said defensively. “Alright? And offered me a favor in exchange for my near death experience - so I told her to unfuck this mess.”

“And she’s doing that.” the mayor said stiffly. “Plenty of people owe the Black Mask plenty of favors, some of them big, some of them small… I, for example, owed the Mask something for asking to deal with the disappearances in the Slavic Quarter.” he said with a sigh. “And since Mask was well aware of my Agency connections… She put them to a good use. Two birds with one stone, if you ask me.” he added with a shrug. “Let’s keep this just between us, but in my personal opinion… You shouldn’t be persecuted alongside the Penguin. It’s not like you killed anybody, and in the end… You helped bring Elliot to justice.”

“Mister mayor!” Louise said, visibly moved; but he only waved his hand at her.

“Two birds, one stone.” he repeated. “Now my debt’s paid off, and your end of the problem solved itself. The rest… Is out of my hands. There’s no possible way for me to pardon Cobblebot and Vale, and to be honest… I don’t want to.”

“That’s fair.” Charlie sighed. “It takes a special kind of twisted morality to side with them.”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.” he said politely. “Alright, I’ll be on my way, I only dropped by to see if my emails made it to you. I’m glad to know you’re in one piece.” he added. “That thing with Elliot? Nasty, nasty business.”

“You have no idea.”

“You’re right.” he admitted. “I don’t.”

***

Ella and Val paid her a visit one day; Ella looked much better than she did that day in Elliot’s mansion, and Charlie was relieved to see she made it in one piece.

“Ella!” she called out to her, slipping out of bed to embrace her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you that day.” Ella whispered, but Charlie shook her head.

“It’s alright. I’m alive, aren’t I? No harm done.” she said softly, to which Ella shot her a shy smile.

“I’m getting better.” she said, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I’m… Glad I can walk on two legs again.” she added, laughing nervously. “That was hell. This is one of my better days.” she added. “On the bad ones… I do a lot of weird things.”

“You’re recovering at an astonishing rate anyway, Ella.”

“Well, he never managed to take away all of my humanity.” she said with a shrug. “I saved some, just a tiny bit… And now it’s time for it to blossom into something bigger. It’s time for me to become a person again.”

“That’s the spirit.” Val croaked from the door, coming in. “My god, what _is_ it with Elliot and hurting redheads? Does he have a personal vendetta against our kind?”

“Did he confess to what happened to you?” Charlie asked, realizing Val has no idea about Elliot’s motives.

“He did.” Val said with a shrug. “He confessed to everything. I heard he looked proud.”

“Son of a bitch.” Ella muttered. “I hope someone shanks him wherever he ends up, you know?”

“And if no one does - I’m willing.” Charlie said. “It should be legal, you know? One stab from every victim. I’d stab him in the spleen.”

“I’d stab him in the neck.” Ella said dreamily. “For that collar he made me wear.”

“I’m a little old-fashioned.” Val confessed. “I’d stab him in the back. I always wanted to try that, it sounds fun.”

“You have an interesting idea of fun.”

“Honey, you grow up with my brother, you get like this.”

***

They let her out of the hospital one week before the trial of Penguin and Lady Arkham; Louise drove her home, where Pingu was waiting for her. The dog got nearly hysterical as he saw her; he started to howl and bark and whine, jumping at her and licking her face and hands.

“I missed you so much, you fuzzy monster!” she laughed, kneeling down. “I see Misty and Esme took good care of you!”

But soon the dog calmed down - and began looking around, clearly looking for something.

For someone.

“I know, boy.” she said, holding back tears. “I know. I… I miss him too.”

But just before she had a chance to tear up completely - she heard a doorbell.

On her doorstep there was a woman - slightly taller than her, brown-haired, with intelligent eyes and friendly, warm smile.

“Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen?”

“Y-yes.”

“I’m Rachel Dawes.” she introduced herself. “I’m a defense attorney and a representative of Victoria Vale and Oswald Cobblepot. Mind if I come in?”

“No, not at all!” Charlie said instantly, stepping aside to let the woman in. “What brings you here?”

“The complicated nature of the relationship between you and one of my clients.” she replied as Charlie was closing the door behind her. “Can I ask for a cup of tea?”

“Naturally!”

(For a woman representing Oswald in court she’d do anything.)

“Can I be frank with you?” Rachel asked as Charlie was preparing the tea for her.

“Naturally.”

“Do you really work for the Agency?” she asked, watching Charlie attentively.

“No.” Charlie replied, handing her the cup; Rachel nodded with gratitude.

“Just like I thought.” she stated, following Charlie to the living room. “Does it mean your relationship with my client is genuine?”

“Absolutely.” she said firmly. “How is he?”

“He’s managing.” Rachel said cautiously. “Do you think you could write him a note, confirming what you just said to me? That’s guaranteed to lift his spirits. Now, as to _why_ I’m here… You’re a witness. The real nature of your relationship with mister Cobblepot means absolutely nothing to the public - but the fact the Agency didn’t deny sending you? _This_ is crucial. What you say and how you say it… Is going to be important.”

“And I’m only finding out about this a week before the trial?!” she said faintly; but Rachel only laughed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not basing my entire line of defense on you.” she comforted her. “Your word is important, but is not the key. The key is the scapegoat - or rather scapegoats. It’s shockingly easy to paint my clients as the victims.”

“Alright, so what’s my role in this?”

“I need you to paint Oswald Cobblepot in the best light possible, and everyone else - in the worst one. _Especially_ Jonathan Crane.” Rachel stated. “Don’t hold back. Make him as likeable as possible. Make him loveable.”

“Oh, this is going to be a breeze.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

They talked for a few hours - Rachel gave Charlie a detailed instructions on what to omit; but one question kept plaguing her.

“You mentioned having scapegoats. Who did you mean?”

“The list can go on and on.” Rachel said with a clever smile. “Jonathan Crane, Thomas Elliot, Victoria’s step parents, the Waynes, Falcone, Hill… Depending on how you look at it, this is either a tragic or a _very_ tragic story - and I’m going for the latter. No holds barred, trial of the century and so on.”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Ask me all the questions you need answered.”

“Who’s paying you?”

“My paychecks are coming from Skyler Hill.” Rachel replied with a smile. “As to who _hired_ me… They asked me to not reveal their identity - and this is that one thing I’m not going to twist to my advantage, comparing the magnitude of the case.”

“...sure.” Charlie said hesitantly, writing down a short note for Oswald and handing it to Rachel. “Give this to Oswald. Did… Did he believe the Agency thing?”

“He did have a breakdown, yes.” Rachel said quietly, sliding the note into her pocket. “But it passed.”

As Rachel was leaving, someone else showed up - someone completely unexpected.

Bruce Wayne.

“Well.” Charlie said at his sight. “This is awkward.”

“It is.” he agreed nervously. “I meant to visit from the moment I heard about what happened, but then the press reported about your relationship with Oswald, and… Well. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course I do.” she sighed, leaving him inside her house, wondering when will she be left alone. “I lied to you for months.”

“Was Pingu a lie as well?”

“At first.” Charlie admitted, petting the dog. “Slip of the tongue. Oswald loved it though. Apparently he always wanted to have a dog.”

“Yes, I remember.” Bruce said quietly. “I… Wanted to talk. About Oswald.”

“Go on.”

“He was my best friend, Charlie.” Bruce said, looking away. “For years. And then everything fell apart, and he returned as this bitter, resentful man, hellbent on taking everything away from me… But I know the Oswald I once knew is still there, _somewhere_.” he said firmly. “And when I found out about you two… At first I was hurt.” he admitted. “I considered you my friend. Not a very close one - I don’t have those - but a friend nevertheless. What I’m trying to say…” he added hastily as she opened her mouth to respond, “Is that you have my full support. No hard feelings, for the old time’s sake. For the sake of Oswald I once played cops and robbers with.”

“Thank you, Bruce.” she said softly. “But you have to understand… This is complicated. I love Oswald - but I know you well enough to know you’re not the devil incarnate he’s making you out to be. I’m kind of… An innocent bystander. Sort of. Kind of. I think.”

“No, no, don’t finish.” Bruce sighed. “I can imagine what kinds of plans did you two make regarding my person… But frankly, so did half of Gotham. So. No hard feelings.”

“Thank you, Bruce. Are you going to the court?”

“The prosecution wants me as a witness. I have no other choice.”

“See you in the battle.”

***

To put things mildly: the trial of Penguin and Lady Arkham caused an outrage.

Rachel Dawes held no punches in her line of defense - and she wasn’t joking when she listed Jonathan Crane as one of the scapegoats. The disgraced psychiatrist was said to be accountable for Vicki’s mental downfall - and his Scarecrow activities and active involvement with the Hush weren’t exactly working in his favor. Rachel Dawes played the dirtiest, lowest trick in the book and did so masterfully - she played the mental illness card, aiding herself with meticulously hand picked professional opinions.

Oswald looked tired and gloomy; but his face briefly lit up as he saw her, and he looked at her tenderly, lovingly, as she spoke in his defense; she painted him as a deeply troubled man, much more vulnerable than people assumed. Not everything she said was complete horseshit; she remembered when she found out he’s an angry crier, when he once had an attack when there was someone talking shit about his family on the news. That was the first time she saw him cry; but it was also the first time she saw him actually _furious_. He excused himself and disappeared in the basement, where he spent a good hour yelling and punching the bag; and when she went downstairs to ask if he needs something he was covered in sweat and started sobbing as soon as she put a hand on his shoulder.

It was a dirty card to play, but at least it worked - and that was all Charlie cared about.

The trial ended without reaching the verdict - but Rachel didn’t seem to be bothered, as Charlie hesitantly walked up to her and her clients. That was the first time in a month she saw Oswald; and up close he looked miserable. Vicki didn’t look a whole lot better; but they seemed to be cautiously optimistic.

“Hey, honey.” she said softly, gently brushing his cuffed hands with her fingertips, his skin feeling almost electric under her touch.

“You look good.” he said quietly, looking at her with some weird longing. “How’s Pingu?”

“He misses you almost as much as I do.” she said jokingly; one of the pillows in their bedroom still smelled like him and Charlie would sometimes hide her face in it when she missed him particularly bad.

“If things keep going so well, he’ll be home in no time.” Rachel assured her. “We’re winning the jury _and_ the judge over.”

“Here’s to hoping.” Oswald said, not taking his eyes off Charlie. “How’s your… Heart?”

“The woman who operated me did a great job. There’s barely any scar.”

“Charlie.” Vicki said, looking at her with no trace of a smile on her face. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yes, Vicki?”

“That was my debt you helped Oswald paid off.” Vicki stated. “I’m… Grateful.”

“I did it for love.” Charlie said quietly. “It’s nothing. But, speaking of love… How’s Louise?”

“We’re getting there.” Vicki said, looking away. “For obvious reasons she can’t even visit me, but… We’re getting there. Can you give her a message?” she asked suddenly. “From me.”

“Of course.”

“Tell her… Hamlet, act 3, scene 2, page 3.”

“Alright.” Charlie replied with a slow nod, returning her attention to Oswald. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” he said raspily.

Louise’s reaction to Vicki’s message was kind of adorable, actually.

“That fucking sap.” she breathed out. “That fucking sap! Can you tell her something from me when you see her on Crane’s trial?”

“Sure.” Charlie replied with a sigh, and Louise’s face lit up.

The next weeks were a constant stream of trials and confessions and people trying to nitpick on her each and every word; but she didn’t give up.

There was simply too much at stake.

Eventually, it all turned into a blur; she began to tune everything out, waiting for the trials to end, waiting for the moment when she’ll be able to go home and lay down. Ever since her heart-stealing ordeal she had been tired very easily; but she was sure that with time her body will regain its old strength.

Victor’s involvement in Elliot’s case was an unpleasant surprise.

“I know.” he said right after seeing her. “I know.”

“You _helped_ him?!” she asked with disbelief; but Victor only sighed.

“He threatened my Nora!” he said desperately. “Oswald already punched me for it, multiple times. Hell, _I_ punched myself for it, also multiple times.”

He looked so miserable she couldn’t be angry at him, not when she knew what Thomas threatened to do to Nora if Victor refuses to help.

“Does Nora know?” she asked instead; and Victor sighed.

“She does, and she’s not happy - but there’s a plus side. She got so pissed off at me she _instantly_ got better.”

During one of Elliot’s hearing Ella had a breakdown and had to be lead out of the courtroom - with Elliot mockingly calling her _a good girl_ on her way out. This cemented his fate; Thomas - along with Crane - was committed to Arkham; theirs weren’t trials of the century, as hardly any lawyer wanted to represent them, considering they both were - rather gleefully - admitting to everything.

“You know, this is almost entertaining to watch.” Oswald once muttered to her. “I’m saying _almost_ , since you almost died, but otherwise… This would be the funniest car crash I’ve ever seen, my life included.”

And eventually - trial of the century came to an end. It was a tiring battle, and Charlie was sure no one in Gotham will as much as consider using the mental illness card for at least a decade - but every battle has to end eventually.

At first her heart dropped when she heard the verdict - _guilty_.

But then, in a split second - she remembered what the Black Mask told her.

Waves of calm washed over her as she was waiting for the sentence; and she wasn’t disappointed.

Community service.

Due to _insanity_ and _trauma_ , Oswald and Vicki were both deemed not responsible for their actions; but it only fully sank in once he walked up to her with a smile on his face and took her into his arms and kissed her, for the first time in forever, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. People were walking past them, and reporters were taking photos and asking questions - questions they didn’t answer, too busy being lost in a kiss.

Louise was waiting outside the courtroom, supposedly for Charlie - but Charlie knew her friend is actually waiting for a chance to finally see Vicki.

Oswald and Vicki were both coming home; and in the latter’s case, the road would be long and paved with difficulties - but she could manage. Lady Arkham died in the underground tunnels; it was time for Vicki Vale to be born again.

***

For the first week they barely left their bedroom at all, having spent over a month with only the scarcest, occasional touches. He was gentle with her, so gentle; as if she was something fragile, as if her heart would fall out the moment he’d bite her harder or pulled her hair.

“For fuck’s sake, Oswald!” she groaned eventually. “This won’t _do_.”

“Then what do you _want_ me to do?”

“Stop being so gentle! I can take rough treatment, we’ve done it rough plenty of times!”

“Dammit, Charlie, give me time!” he groaned in response. “I’m not used to _almost_ losing people, I’m used to _just_ losing them!”

“God.” she muttered, her cheeks suddenly turning red. “You sap.”

“I’m sappy because I love you.”

“ _Stop it._ ”

“Ah-ha, found your weak spot.” he said triumphantly. “My sappiness! I love you.” he suddenly whispered. “And we don’t have to hide anymore.”

He kissed her again, and they intertwined their fingers together; and soon their breaths followed.

For the second week, they barely ever _returned_ to their bedroom; Oswald was too enthralled by the perspective of living a normal life to just let go of it - even though people of Gotham weren’t too happy about him walking the streets.

“You shouldn’t stay in Gotham.” Misty told them one night. “People are going to spit on Oswald.”

“So I’ll buy him an umbrella.” Charlie replied in a chipper tone.

Eventually, Oswald remembered about the promise he once made.

“Remember how I said I’m going to crush Bruce if Batman hurts you?”

“...maybe?” she said cautiously, already knowing what’s going to happen next. “Oswald, wait!”

But he was already on his way to Bruce’s front door; and he was home when Oswald rang the doorbell, chased by a very distressed Charlie.

“Alfred!” Oswald said jovially at the sight of Wayne’s elderly butler. “Is Bruce home by any chance?”

Behind Oswald’s back, Charlie shook her head desperately; but was ignored by Alfred, who sighed and called out for his master.

“Brucie!” Oswald greeted him, dangerous, sharp note hidden in his voice. “So, I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh, this is going to be good.” Bruce muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. “Hello, Charlie.” he added, nodding in her direction.

“Hello, Bruce.” she panted out; Oswald looked at her with concern, but she shook her head to let him know she’s alright.

“I’ve been thinking… I know you work for the Batman.” Oswald continued. “And I once made a promise to Charlie, and I’m a man of honor-”

“So I’ve heard.” Bruce muttered impassionately, to which Oswald scoffed.

“Don’t interrupt me! I’m a man of honor…” he continued. “And I _always_ keep my word. And the promise was - if Batman as much as lays a _finger_ on her, I’m going to crush you.”

“...alright.” Bruce said cautiously as Oswald grabbed Charlie’s wrist and raised her hand to show Bruce her - completely healed - elbow.

“She scraped her elbows _and_ her knees!” he said very accusingly.

Bruce raised his eyebrows - to which Oswald promptly punched him.

“Oswald!” frightened Charlie called out, as Oswald turned around and walked away triumphantly.

“Okay, _that_ was surprising.” Bruce muttered, examining his jaw. “But I guess that’s a good start of a path to mutual acceptance.”

“He _punched_ you. And you’re… You’re _okay_ with that.”

“Well.” Bruce shrugged. “Oswald _is_ a man of honor. And who am I to stand between a man and his honor? Besides…” he added, looking at Oswald’s more and more distant figure. “Last time I stood between Oswald and something he wanted I ended up in Arkham. Not going to make _this_ mistake again.”

***

And life went on.

 


End file.
